


The Way We Were

by Starzfrenia



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Disappointment, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Friendship, Ilsa facing Alanna, Love Triangles, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Story with Plot, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28340349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starzfrenia/pseuds/Starzfrenia
Summary: They are the best duo the IMF has ever seen. Could they get through it all? What happens when Ethan starts seeing someone behind Ilsa’s back? A series of unpleasant, violent and passionate moments that hopefully will end up being just a dream...or not.
Relationships: Ethan Hunt/Alanna Mitsopolis, Ilsa Faust/Alanna Mitsopolis, Ilsa Faust/Ethan Hunt, Ilsa Faust/Ethan Hunt/Alanna Mitsopolis
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Ghent

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my second fan fic about Ethan and Ilsa. It kinda got dark and gloomy for some characters, I hope it all turned out ok ;)  
> Once again, English is not my first language, so if you find mistakes (most likely you will) please ignore them and focus on the story. Most important: please tell me what you think! Besos!
> 
> D: I don’t own anything. (Some secondary characters perhaps.)

Ghent, Belgium

The delicate gold ring on her index finger was rhythmically tapping on the beer bottle and she was starting to hum a little.She couldn’t pinpoint what made her good-humored, it was perhaps the sun setting and inducing a beautiful spectacle of golden water running beside her or maybe the music playing on that beautiful terrace. It had been a long time since she felt this way: somehow animated.

The city itself marvelled her. Tall buildings that ended in Gothic points, narrow cobbled roads, where, she was sure, princesses and witches had once walked; the smell of freshly baked bread and wine at any time of day had her intoxicated. This restaurant-café was perfect, the view was even more so, the Lys river was slow dancing and the boats full of tourists did not stop parading in it.

As soon as the romantic street lights came on, she realised the book in front of her demanded her attention and so did the handsome waiter who had approached her.

“One more beer?" He asked.

Ilsa sighed because she really did want one more but it was going to be number three and she considered it would not be wise.

“A coffee...Jeremy"

The boy's name was printed on the uniform and she decided to use it to get him on her side or to get a smile out of that perfect face. Fortunately the latter happened and she also smiled making this night even brighter.

“I'll bring it to you right away,” the waiter said as he went to the bar blushing. She was satisfied to know she hadn’t forgotten how to cause this kind of reactions in men.

“You should know that boy is not older than 23.”

A familiar voice behind was heard and she turned her head only 45 degrees so the visitor could see she was smiling mischievously.

Ethan walked over, put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was his way of saying hello to her partner and somehow marking his territory.

Ilsa pointed gracefully at the chair across from her giving him permission to take a seat.

“I was just being nice to him.”

“I think you were going after extra cookies with that coffee.”

A candid laugh left her lips.

“You know me...”

“Like the soles of my feet.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

Ethan took off his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair.

“Anyway, I know you more than you know yourself,” he claimed as he sat in front of her.

“Maybe so Hunt, but you don't have to brag about it.”

He smiled as he raised his hand to call the waiter, desperately longing for a beer and a double burger, with lots of fries. This last mission, recently completed, had left him mentally exhausted and whenever that happened, the best comfort he could find was to gorge the most American food there was.

He waved his hand vigorously; his efforts weren’t attracting anyone's attention.

"It won't work, dear."

Ethan looked at her with a frown.

“What won’t work?"

“Jeremy will not come to take your order... if you wish, I can call him.”

She raised his finger to an ear level not taking her eyes off his partner.

In two seconds Jeremy was beside her.

“Jeremy! Thanks for coming. My friend wants a red beer and a double hamburger, double chips too,please.”

“Right away, gorgeous.”

“And don’t forget my coffee.”

The waiter winked at her and walked away.

Ethan didn't find the exchange of words funny at all, but he was relieved to have her as an ally.

“You see? I also know you like the back of my hand,” she said.

The agent snorted. Yes, Ilsa read him very well, backwards and forwards. She turned once more to the waiter but she did so very quickly and a recent shoulder injury resulted in an almost imperceptible wince on her face.

Ethan noticed, he always did.

"You're good?" A sudden seriousness fell like a bucket of cold water in the middle of the table, he leaned forward and took Ilsa's hand.

Last week's mission was pretty tough for both of them. They were alone, without additional support and with two criminals stalking the highest authority in Belgium who arrived in Ghent for the opening of a new museum.

Ethan's task was to run the operation inside the museum, as a bogus director, owner of all the cameras and aware of all movements, ready to jump into action at any moment.

Ilsa took the hard part this time. They pulled out straws and she got the shortest one, therefore the field work. Her mission was to infiltrate the suburbs and track down both criminals.

Everything went as planned. They caught the guys without King Felipe's own security realising that something was wrong. Now the terrorists were in a container somewhere in the North Sea. Such was their work, rarely recognised by the simple inhabitants of the world.

However, Ilsa received a few hits before they had the situation under control, that was the reason Ethan was looking at her with bright eyes and no trace of joking like a few moments ago.

She accepted his hand and squeezed it to assure him she was fine.

“Everything is ok; nothing I haven’t overcome before, in fact, I was in a very good mood a moment ago... This city is beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful.And the good company makes it better.” Ethan caught a glimpse of Ilsa’s face being lighted up by the last rays of sun and couldn’t help to make a remark on feeling grateful for being across from her.

Ilsa tilted her head to the right and smiled. Is he flirting? She wondered.He rarely does it, he has to be in a really good mood.

That made her aware of the physical contact between the two. Being with their hands clasped was not uncommon, they did it very often in fact. It was their way of saying that they had each other without it meaning, in any way,that there was something more than a deep friendship between both agents. (Although to the eyes of strangers they were the most perfect couple on the face of the Earth).

Jeremy arrived with a large tray and cleared his throat so that they would give him space to place the order on the table and especially to force them to quit the touching stuff.

The boy practically threw the hamburger at Ethan making some fries roll out of the plate. Then he gently placed the coffee in front of Ilsa.Indeed, he gave her more cookies than the regular ration.

“Thank you.” Ilsa said lowering the intensity of flirting with the handsome waiter.

Jeremy left and Ethan did not fail to notice that a small piece of paper was sticking out between the coffee cup and the little plate in front of her partner.

“I'm going to hit him on the way out,” he muttered.

“You're not going to do anything to him.” Ilsa ordered.

“I'm going to scare him then.”

“He is just a kid, Ethan. Eat your chips.”

“Do you want?” He asked taking one between his fingers and holding it up to Ilsa.

She hesitated, the difficult decisions life places in front of you.

“Just one.” And she leaned forward to take it between her teeth.

“The information about the next mission should have arrived a few hours ago, but still nothing.” Ethan said changing the subject and getting serious again.

Ilsa stared at the Lys, she didn't want to admit it to her partner but she was tired. Ten missions in a row, in the last 4 months. And a very dense one was coming, according to what Brandt had anticipated.

Ethan read her thoughts.

“It will be the last and then we will take a vacation. If you want, we can plan it together.”

“Sounds good darling, but don't be offended I'd like to have some time alone.”

“Ouch!” Ethan simulated a pain in his chest.

“Don’t get me wrong! You are the best company in the world and you make delicious ravioli, but I need to get away from you a bit. Have some time to find myself, the Ilsa prior getting stick to you, like a third leg or something.”

The handsome agent laughed with amusement.

“Ilsa, you are not my third leg, you are the most capable agent I know. And we are a great team. The agency knows it, they have given us a name, you know? ... No, I am not going to tell you which one; I will only tell you that in my time in this job they had not given a name to any team. I have never felt so safe working with someone as I do now. Don't tell Benji.”

Ethan knew what to say. She liked his occasional encouraging speeches.

“Yes, we are a good team,” Ilsa said as she moved forward to steal one more chip from his plate.

“However, I still refuse to vacation with you, if you are going to scare all the guys like you did with poor Jeremy; I'll die alone in a nursing home without having had sex in 40 years.”

Ethan almost choked.

“I can help with that, I mean the sex part.”

She looked at him incredulously.

“This is the same man who decided that our relationship should no longer go beyond the strictly professional? You had your chance yankee.”

“An opportunity that I did not waste.” he said mischievously.

“I know... But, everything works perfectly now that we have no emotional baggage. Do you remember the first year?”

“It was a total disaster.” Ethan said.

“Indeed! We were so happy in bed but we were constantly putting out fires in all missions, fires we started ourselves.

“We were in love.”

“Were we?” Ilsa replied.She was startled at Ethan's sudden sincerity, he had never, until now, acknowledged that he had been in love with her at some point.

“Weren’t you?” Ethan asked and waited for the answer without chewing.

She took a breath. Are we talking about now? Or two years ago. How silly, she thought. There was no difference. She was still in love with him even though she didn't want to admit it even to herself.

This conversation did not benefit either of them. Why had he brought it up after so long of not being involved sentimentality? It is probably this place, the atmosphere was exuding romance.

She opened her mouth to answer something to this awkward question. But the table began to vibrate and Ilsa breathed in relief, thanking for the interruption.

It was his partner’s cell phone that was receiving a call, a very common situation. It was probably Brandt who did not leave him alone and needed updates 10 times a day.

However something unusual happened. Ethan raised his hand quickly and put it on top of the device. There was no way Ilsa could see who was calling, the phone was too far from her, yet he struggled to make sure she wouldn’t see anything.

The agent did not hide she was perplexed, she looked at the phone and then at her partner's eyes. Secrets between them? They even knew the colour of underwear they would wear the next day.Figuratively, because there was no way they would allow themselves to be seen in their underwear during their coexistence in the safe houses, it was far too dangerous. They promised not to be half naked in front of the other to avoid temptations. Although a couple of days ago she had to ask him for help to remove her top, a dislocated shoulder was the reason,that returned to its place soon after.Well back on topic, Ethan was hiding who was calling from her!

“Are you going to answer?” Ilsa asked in a deep voice.

“Mmmm, yes. Give me a few minutes ... I have to ...”

She waved her hand to let him know it was okay and he should stop babbling.

Ethan scrambled to his feet and walked almost to the edge of the Lys. Ilsa watched him put the phone to his ear, his hand inside his pocket and smile sheepishly as he spoke. This can be trouble, she told to herself. He was being very careful to turn his back on her, he knew very well that she could also read his lips. Not that she allowed herself to try.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Ethan returned to the table and said without sitting down.

“Don't wait for me today. I'm going to take a walk... since Jeremy is ignoring me here’s the check.”

“It’s on me.” she said with her eyes wide open, giving him a last chance to elaborate on details concerning the call. He always did. But not this time.

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” The agent approached, touched her shoulder as he had done at the beginning and then his quick fingers went to the little piece of paper that was still under the cup of coffee that she had ordered. Ilsa instantly grabbed his wrist to keep him from taking the note that came from sweet Jeremy.

“That's mine.” She said as she took the loot away from him.

“You’re gonna throw it away anyway,” Ethan replied mockingly, the smile fading from his lips when he saw the agent's grave face.

“Hurry, someone is waiting for you,” she whispered.

Ethan walked away without turning around. It's true, he shouldn't worry about her or what she could do with that young man or with anyone that night, he didn't have the right. Not when he was going to meet another woman at a luxurious hotel four blocks away. He shook his head, he was scolding himself for what had just happened.

Now Ilsa knew everything, he had been careless with the phone, then he considered it absurd to keep hiding it. She will ask for an explanation, what would he say? He didn’t even knew why he was meeting this woman when he still felt something for his partner. All he was certain is that he needed to suppress those feelings for Ilsa, it was for the best.

Ilsa looked around. The city, lighted up with yellow candles and a bright full moon, no longer looked as spectacular as exactly 10 minutes ago. Confusion hit her like an anvil, Ethan was meeting another woman.

She tried to remember the times when her partner disappeared from her sight with some silly excuse, she exhaled anger. Jealousy? Fury. Ilsa, did you really believe that the pact of not sleeping together was an implicit agreement of not doing it with other people? Was she about to lose her partner? No.Was she about to lose the man? Apparently.

She looked at the piece of paper in her hand. Ethan was right, her normal behaviour would be to discard it as she did with the advances of any man. But now it was different because she had just realised how unfair this situation was. The last thing on her mind was to throw in his face she had also slept with someone, that was not her.Even so, she had to do something to get rid of that discomfort she felt in her heart.

Could she put a name to that discomfort?

Not quite, but it felt like solitude. She felt lonely again for the first time in three years.

Ilsa read the note in her hands. It said: "I'll wait for you at the Dulle Griet - Jeremy +32 99242455.”

She finished her coffee and what was left of Ethan's beer. Then approached the bar and spoke to a red-haired boy with a prominent nose.

"Where's the Dulle Griet?"

******


	2. Down to Business

The red telephone began to ring and vibrate on the tray where six more devices were laying. Zola set his cards on the table and gestured for the others to wait for him. He read who it was on the screen and his eyes widened in surprise, he couldn't stop his tongue from licking his lips thinking about the money that call meant.

He almost ran into the adjoining room, across from a dimly lit corridor he found the door that was always closed.

“Al! You have a call! It’s important!”

The door parted from the wall a few inches and a slender hand reached out to take the phone and then disappeared again.

She also bit her lower lip when she saw Anatoliy Kozlov's name on the screen.

“Tolya, handsome! How nice to know you still remember me!”

“Alanna, my friend. Sorry for calling you so unexpectedly.” A rash voice was heard.

“I am always available for you, dear. Though you had me waiting for this call almost six months.”

“Business is not as we forecasted, there is a lot of competition.” the Russian complained.

“Competitors don’t last forever.”

“They are like mold and you know it, Alanna.”

“Mold can also be removed Tolya,” the beautiful woman replied as she put a strawberry in her mouth.

“I have a business. South America. 130 million in fire.”

“Hmm... a fat buyer.” Good thing it wasn't a social call! Alanna thought.

“The best in recent years,” Kozlov added.

“Congratulations! Tell me what I can do for you.”

“I need you, in the negotiation, right on the spot”

“Ok, such a straight shooter.”

“You know I don't like to beat around the bush.”

“And you know that I don't travel to America, Tolya. Why do you need a broker for? You close the business yourself and don’t lose a percentage.” Alanna asked trying to get to the heart of the matter.

“He asked for you.”

“He…. Who is he?”

“I can't give you anymore details, not if you don’t agree to join in first.”

“Tolya, this time I will have to decline,” she said instantly. It wasn’t the kind of exposure she wanted to get and now even less so.

“It will be 40% for you.”

She swallowed and Kozlov continued, this was his chance to get her in the deal.

“My beautiful Alanna, you know the percentage for intermediaries does not rise above 8%. So tell me, are you in or not?” Kozlov started to put a bit of urgency on the matter. Most of the time that was not a good sign and she surely like things well thought.

“Give me a minute.”

She moved her head from right to left as if trying to stretch her neck and grant her brain some additional oxygen. This was clearly an opportunity she could not waste; it was a very large amount of money. Furthermore, if she did not accept, she could lose her best ally in Eastern Europe. Forty percent! ...Where was the catch? She wasn’t going to find out from the outside. And she could not sleep on it, an answer was awaited in the next few seconds.

The phone in the room made her snap; it was ringing. She precipitated to answer while she put the Russian on hold.

“Yes?”

“Miss Mitsopolis; you have a visitor at the front desk.”

“Let them up please.”

She hung up and returned to the Russian.

“Will you watch my back, Tolya?”

“When haven’t I?”

“Send me the file.”

“Great, I knew I could count on you.”

The line died but she was slow to remove the device from her ear. Her laptop made a familiar sound, a new mail had just arrived.  
She opened it and read the most interesting parts; she had to check that out before the visitor arrived.

The inventory described the merchandise as innocent fishing gear. She went down to the part that said Petitioner: Francisco Martin. The name did not ring a bell. Why had he asked her to be a part of the negotiation?  
Everything was in order further down the page, until she reached an item that was undisclosed.  
She stopped reading and stared into space. That meant she would trade for weapons and for a box she had no right to know the contents of; she would only know how much it was worth.

That was something she never did… never.

There was a faint sound coming from the main door. Alanna walked absentmindedly to it, still absorbing the information and wondering why she had said yes.

She used the peephole to verify that the person outside was the one she was expecting. She inhaled before opening and unconsciously adjusted her hair.  
As soon as she unlocked the door, Ethan stormed inside. Alanna took two steps back, she knew very well what would happen next.

The agent took her by the waist, lifted her and placed her on the nightstand. Ethan positioned himself between her legs and the two joined in a long, desperate kiss. The craving of tasting each other again had built up for weeks. He needed her so much… and she yearn for him too.

**********

“Usually, I don't mind the noise, but knowing that your brother is laughing on the other side of that door bothers me a lot.”

“You know how overprotective he is.”

“With a sister like you, anyone would be.”

Her blond hair rested on Ethan's chest and her hand circled the bare skin of her bedmate.

“Does he know what we do while he plays Monopoly?”

The beautiful broker laughed.

“No…” and she reached to kiss him sweetly on the lips. “Tell me something handsome...” She gave him another kiss on the neck. “Does Ilsa know?”

The smile Ethan was wearing on his face disappeared in an instant.

“Yes.”

“You told her!”

“She just knew.”

“And what did she tell you once she found out about me?,” Now Alanna was more than amused.

“She still doesn’t know it’s you.”

“Oh”

She peeled herself off Ethan's body and rolled onto her back.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“I need her to know.”

“Why does it matter?” Ethan was suddenly feeling uneasy. Ilsa was a complex issue for him and he was not keen to address it at that moment.

“I just don't trust her. I don't trust she is always sleeping two steps away from you, Ethan. You must know that I am not with anyone else and I will not be with anyone else while this lasts.” She pointed at his chest and then at her own.

“Al, you have to trust ME. It’s been a long time since Ilsa and I were together. And we both agreed on being just working partners.”

Why was it hard for her to trust? Ethan was in her room now, committing on not touching anyone else. But a voice was asking over and over: what about all those nights when they had no one else to turn after a rough day? She shook those thoughts away, they were grownups with every right to do whatever they pleased, all three of them. Yes, a grownup would trust. Trust him Alanna.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she got up. “You're right. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Business,” Ethan said and it was a statement rather than a question.

She nodded.

“You know that I can help right?”

“How?” She laughed.

“I could make a decent woman out of you.”

“You're visualising yourself too far ahead Ethan,” she said getting a little serious.

“I'm just giving you options.”

Alanna put a white robe on her naked body. Soon her gaze was lost in another place far from there, she was thinking about the Russian, her brother, about waking up next to Ethan every day. A dog barking at the garden gate. Little feet running on a wooden floor.

“We agreed on not sticking our noses in each other's affairs, but you know I'm here for you right?” Ethan stated in his attempt to bring her from wherever she was, because clearly her mind was not 100% in the room.

She nodded slowly, but there was no way she would share with him any details of what was bothering her. Ethan waited with expectation, she opened her mouth to say something and luckily got interrupted.

“Alanna!” Zola's voice was heard through the inner door.

Ethan put his feet on the floor ready to run towards the jerk and harm him badly. He didn't know why but despite sharing DNA with Alanna that guy produced feelings in him that were extremely opposite to those he had for her.

“Let me open the door,” Ethan asked.

“Shhh ... Don't even dream about it,” she said approaching him and placing a hand on his chest to calm him down.

“Zola! Go away I'm sleeping!”

The man stopped knocking and left mumbling things. He was already drunk.

Ethan took a deep breath. This was Zola’s way to drive him up the wall; he always did when he was there. He knew someone else was there.

Alanna noticed him being unsettled, so she tried her best to catch his attention again. She removed the robe from her body and made a mental note: Tell Zola about Ethan so he can stop being a jerk.

Ethan found himself looking at her again, she had done that again and it worked; his body moved towards her.

That woman was a magnet. What was he doing? Why couldn't he stop coming back to Alanna? He wanted to desist this madness but it was extremely appealing to meet clandestinely whenever they got the chance. Was he falling in love? Impossible, not him. Yet, one thing was certain, she had the most soothing effect on him.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

Those indulgent eyes were staring at her, shining. In her life, she met kind eyes in rare ocassions, she grew up getting looks that undermined her; after all she was mommy’s little girl who appeared either too dumb or too pretty to play her part. Ethan looked at her like she was worth, not as a Mitsopolis but as a woman.

How did they get to this point? Alanna knew how it all started. She had chased him through Europe and as she was taught since she was little: she didn’t settled for a no. Alanna was fixated on him and her expectations were proven right. What a man.

“Ohh fuck,” She found herself saying out loud.

“What?” Ethan backed away slightly at the expression.

“I need to talk to you about two matters....one... I think I'm in love with you.”

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who likes Alanna and Ilsa and can’t decide? Meeee!


	3. Inevitable

Ethan ran his fingers through his hair to fix it up a bit. Then he lifted up a battered tin plate screwed into the wall and revealed a very thin, almost transparent screen. He put his right thumb on it and as always; his prints were painted green.

The automatic lock clicked and the antique wooden door screeched open. The uncertainty of the situation made him uneasy. Almost fearful. Did he feel regret? Unbearable guilt?

He walked across the very long passageway that led him to a square patio that had an orange tree in the middle. He stared at the floor at all times and hopelessly went in the safe house door. The smell of her favourite coffee hit his nose.

His room was as he had left it. Just something different: on the bed was one of his passports with some papers detailing his soon to be new identity; Ilsa always made sure to do this for him. The dark feeling of guilt turned up again.

She was not in her room, although it was easy enough to follow her scent to the kitchen where he found her leaning on one of the cabinets, drinking coffee.

"It finally arrived,” Ethan said referring to the information about the new mission.

"Yes. A girl in a habit brought the envelope this time…they are really running out of ideas."

"Did you open it?"

"Slightly.”

Ethan waited for the spoken summary that was taking too long to come.

"It was addressed only to you, Ethan."

"What do you mean?"

“That I couldn't open the complete file. I am only included til we set foot in Venezuela, then it is only you. I left your passport ... "

"I did see it, thank you."

“I thought about helping you pack, then the thought of finding something I didn't want to see crossed my mind, so I dismissed the idea. But you still have time, the flight leaves at 15:00. "

"Ilsa, what would you find in my suitcase that you haven't seen already."

Clearly she had been prepping the words that stormed out of her mouth.

“No, dear… don't try to pretend we know everything about each other...Tell me something Ethan, in Berlin, was it the same woman?”

There was no point in keep hiding things from Ilsa.

"Yes."

"And that time in Lisbon?"

"It was her too."

"Where did all this start?"

"In London."

Ilsa raised her eyebrows and nodded slightly.

“I'm not going to ask you who she is because I don't give a damn. Six months, hiding where you were going. And what’s worst, you made up stories ... you lied to me.”

"I didn't want to hurt you." 

She placed down her drink and got dangerously close to him; soon he had her five cm away from his face.

“You put us in danger, Ethan. What if something came up and I didn't know where you were? It's not about you slipping away to be with someone, it’s about how reckless you were!”

“I don't have to brief all my moves to you, Ilsa! Tell me if it’s going to be like that between us, if so you have to explain to me why you didn't sleep here last night!”

Ilsa winced and walked away. Ethan followed behind and continued.

“Your bed is made! Do you want to talk about recklessness? Reckless is to go off and sleep with the first guy you come across!”

The agent thought that she would turn around and punch him in the middle of the nose and he would let himself be hit for being an idiot.

Instead, Ilsa lowered her head and shrugged her shoulders; looking at her from behind he could tell that she wasn't going to defend herself. He knew it was time to stop screaming.

He came up behind her and continued almost whispering.

“You never make your bed before 10:00...” Ethan placed both his hands on her arms and pressed his forehead to the back of her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair. “There is no tea in your teapot, you always drink a cup before going to bed. I know you Ilsa and I know why you did it… and I also know that it is none of my business. I'm sorry"

She closed her eyes. She had her man, her best friend, her partner so physically close, breathing down her neck… but still she couldn't help but feel that she was losing him.

"Promise me something Ethan,” she whispered.

He turned her around slowly and looked into her blue eyes.

"I know, Ils ...I promise that nothing will change between us,” he said.

Ilsa nodded in relief; their mental connection was unreal.

"Nothing will change, we will always be The team,” Ethan continued. “I will have your back and you will have mine."

They wrapped themselves in a hug that didn't last long. They both had the familiar feeling of butterflies flying in their navel and then slowly traveling inches below; a tingling causing an internal explosion that ended up being exposed by laboured breathing. This contact was dangerous, they had always avoided it, for the last two years at least, once they decided not to touch each other again.

"It's better we..." Ilsa placed both her hands on Ethan's chest in her attempt to put some space between their bodies.

"Yes ..." Ethan said as he set his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead.

It regularly worked for them to interrupt any exchange at that point; Ethan was very passionate about not letting things get out of hand. 

But it was somehow different this time, Ilsa slept with somebody else last night. That's what the thoughts that filled his head were reduced to; he scolded himself for it; after all he had also been with another woman too many times before. Even so he could not stop thinking about her partner in bed with another guy. What kind of man was he for having those thoughts? A selfish macho? Ethan considered himself anything but.

Nevertheless, primitive impulses were emerging and he wasn’t able to control them.

His hands did not detach from her cheeks, Ilsa placed her own hands on his and tried to break the touch; she also made it her mission to avoid prolonged contact despite feeling that every time he stopped touching her, it hurt. 

She didn't understand what was happening, Ethan showed no trace of backing down. 

He had her taken. She finally managed to get him to release her face, only for his hands to fall on her waist.  
She closed her eyes and tried to soothe her breathing. He moved closer, making the little air between their hips disappear.

“Ethan, no,” Ilsa managed to exhale.

But it seemed there was no turning back, his fingers had gotten under her shirt and were running all over her spine, sending electric shocks to Ilsa's entire body. As much as she wanted to continue resisting, she couldn't, she ceased thinking at that moment.  
Ilsa took the edges of his partner's polo shirt and lifted it until it came out over his head, she welcomed the warmth of his torso on hers, but she did not know how much she missed it until Ethan did the same with her top and both naked skins met once more.

They kissed, not thinking about the consequences. There was only them and the implicit and supressed love that existed between the two. The harmony of their movements was so obvious in and out of bed that there was no doubt they belonged to each other’s arms.

The desperate kiss led them to throw every object that was on the kitchen table, their anxiety did not allow them to take the situation to another area of the safe house. They joined in a vehement hug, she was on the table, he was standing and they only parted ecstatically when it was all over.

Ilsa's fingers removed a lock of hair that had fallen out of place covering Ethan's eyes, she wanted to know what exactly was happening on her partner's head and his eyes never lied to her.  
They were shining and smiling. Have you seen eyes smile? Well, Ethan did it all the time, he was the owner of the most honest look she had ever known.

Ilsa also smiled in relief and picked up the clothes from the floor. She tossed Ethan his t-shirt and put hers on. 

She walked over to the coffeepot to pour a cup and when she turned to offer it to Ethan her heart almost skipped a beat. The kind expression was gone and was replaced by darkness.  
Her partner’s facial appearance had changed. A frown crowned a hard look.

“What’s going on?” She asked immediately.

“We shouldn't have.”

“But we did, Ethan.”

He looked devastated. How opposite was that from feelings she was having. She had to know the reason why, was it because of that woman? No, it couldn’t be, she was just a fling. And they were real. Was it because of the job? They just had sex, it had to mean something!

“Listen to me, Ethan. We are both at that point in life where we must choose.. if we cannot have work and love at the same time then we must rule one out.”

Ilsa walked over to him and put a hand on his chest. She needed Ethan to understand what she was saying. There was only one way and she had already made the decision, now it was just a matter of him embracing the idea.

Ethan took a long time to reply, he took Ilsa's hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss it. 

“That’s the reason this should not happen again.”

She pulled away slightly so Ethan would release her hand.

“I thought... I...Ethan I wasn’t looking for this to happen,” With a sad voice and a twist of dangerous bitterness.

“I am sorry....I don't know what came over me.”

“You don’t know? She looked at the ground in defeat, exhaled and turned to go.

“Ilsa don't go, not like this,” he took her by the arm.

The english agent fought not to explode, she was an expert on controlling herself and acting rationally. But what good had she gotten from keeping her feelings inside all this time? Ethan took for granted she was always okay. And now the castle of cards was about to collapse.

What makes think you can come and screw my world every time you feel like it? I was ok with “us” being out of reach as long as you were near me... but then you come and do this?... You do matter to me Ethan and it hurts when you touch me. Fuck, I love you, but your blinded by duty to even register that... You do not care.”

“I do care about you...I don't want to hurt you.” He whispered.

“So why did you touch me?” she walked over with rage in her voice and pushed him back. “Why didn't you let me go?”

“Because ... I need you close... I can't stand someone else having you...I don't want anyone to touch you...And I couldn't control myself!” It was time for Ethan to be agitated.

“Tell me you feel the same.” She said trembling.

She didn't recognize herself. Or this avalanche of emotions were the real Ilsa and temperance she was known for, was just a facade she had created for Ilsa the agent?

“I can't do anything for us now Ilsa, not anymore.” No one knew how hard was for him to outer these words. “We need things to continue the way they are.”

His words were successful, the avalanche was stopped by an immense wall of ice. She understood, there was no point to keep on fighting. The situation had hit rock bottom and she was exhausted.

“I get it. We have a flight to catch.” She whispered leaving only a ghost of her aroma in the room.

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I was unsure of was the rating. Please let me know if PG 13 is ok.


	4. Bienvenidos

They were both adults, both trained agents. What had happened hours before had to be erased from their heads or at least temporarily forgotten, for the sake of the mission, for the sake of their sanity.

On airplanes they never traveled together to avoid obvious connections that suspicious eyes could make, and this time they were grateful to be at least 10 meters apart. With many people around. Ilsa slept or pretended to, Ethan read and occasionally watched over the seats to catch a glimpse of Ilsa’s head top, to make sure she was there and not going anywhere.

He felt very bad, even guiltier than that time he had to hit her with a car, and that said a lot.

He remembered the exchange they had a few hours ago, his hands on her skin, his mouth brushing against her sensitive places. He had to take a glass of water to soothe his dry throat, and reach his forehead to clean some drops of sweat. He had no choice but to keep things the way they were before, even if it was almost unbearable to have her around, much more to think that she could leave anytime.

*****

Caracas was drier than she had imagined, Ilsa read on the web that the city had a tropical climate and imagined that a wave of humidity would hit her when she got off the plane. It didn’t happen. it was dry and hot, heck, it was very hot.

“You’re sweating,” once in the car the agency had provided, Ethan noticed some agitation in the back seat and decided to check on his partner.

He only received a raw look. Small talk was the agent's strategy to try to get things back almost to normal, after all, Ilsa would only have a small part in this mission. According to the agency, if things went as planned, only Ethan should continue. That was for the best, having her rest for a while could help the situation between them to cool down and they could try to fix things later.

“It's only 28 Celsius degrees,” Ethan continued.

“That IS hot, and the AC isn’t working.”

“Sure, compared to your London summer, you must be on fire,” He mentally crossed his fingers so his strategy of lightening the air in that car could work.

Three seconds later Ilsa had already removed her clothes, leaving only a tank top and jeans, if it were for her, they would be off too. She stuffed a ball of cloth into her suitcase.

“Better?” Ethan asked.

“No,” she said bluntly, then in her attempt to forget the conditions she began to recite the schedule that laid ahead. “First to the safe house, we get into character and then head to Miraflores. We have an hour.”

“Ok... Eager to meet a president?”

“Nope.”

“How unenthusiastic.” The look he received in exchange for his comment warned him that it was better not to enter murky waters. 

Two hours later they were coming through the main door of the Miraflores Palace, two guys in suits saw them and with no greeting at all, guided them through corridors and stairs.

As they climbed up, Ilsa did a mental check on how they both looked: Ethan's glasses were upright, his green and black plaid shirt was properly wrinkled (because scholars don't care about their appearance) his hair was appropriately slicked off and combed down the middle. His shoes did not attract attention. She was wearing a brown suit below the knee two sizes bigger and a messy hair bun. We're good, she thought.

A red door welcomed them into the presidential office.

The parodies did him total justice. The man who appeared in front of them lived hidden behind a large black moustache and only came out to chatter in Spanish. It was said that not even his compatriots understood what he was saying, fortunately for them they did well guessing.

It was convenient that the interpreter was also there waiting for the exchange of words to begin.

“Me dicen que eres el mejor biólogo del mundo.” The little president began.

“They tell me that you are the best biologist in the world,” the interpreter followed.

Ethan waited for the guy to finish his work, although he had understood the president perfectly.

“I don't know all of them, but I think the first place could go to either to my partner or me,” Ethan said putting his hand on Ilsa's back.

Once that statement was translated into spanish, the president looked at the female agent from head to toe and made a gesture that could be understood as disbelief or even contempt.

Ilsa shifted her body weight, a signal to Ethan that read: I feel like physical assaulting a president.

“Sir, we are here at your request. Our association sent us as soon as you applied, we need a light on what you need from us, it is imperative that we return to our studies as soon as possible.”

“Forthright and intelligent man.” The president said smiling and taking three steps towards Ethan. "Apparently your only imperfection is being American." His black eyes went up and down, going over the agent's anatomy.

Ilsa knew immediately that she was going home. Ethan had managed to be of the target’s liking. This was a roulette wheel, she was there in case the president decided that she was more pleasing to his eyes. But after seeing sparks fly between her partner and the Head of state, she understood that her mission was over, as the agency anticipated, she was returning home and her partner continued alone. When the man behind the moustache raised his eyebrows graciously at Ethan she struggled not to burst out laughing.

“I do not respond to any country, Sir; my enthusiasm and work is towards humanity,” Ethan answered perfectly in Spanish.

“Good, so let's get started... You should know that I asked for a biologist, not two,” he said glancing at the female creature that clearly wanted vanished from his sight.

“It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. President,” Ilsa said then turned on her heels to leave, not before letting her partner know that the she found the situation to be very funny.

Both men took their seats.

“Mr. Young, I have a very important project, classified as you may know. It will be in a personal capacity, but if everything goes well I will make it public and for the benefit of my country. I have purchased a serum that, according to my suppliers, is to cure degenerative diseases. I need you to test it.

“I'm a biologist specialised in ecology, Mr. President, not a toxicologist.”

“That’s why I need you. It is a simple job. You inject, you observe, you report.”

“I need to know the origin of the serum in order to draw conclusions.”

“No conclusions. Status reports of individuals. Nothing else.” The president almost yelled.

“I don't like blind work”

“You have no choice, Young. If we do not get your selfless help you will not return to your association, we have made sure of that. I wouldn't want to have to discredit you in front of the scientific community.”

Ethan looked at the man doubtfully. Unscrupulous. As the agency reported, he was holding a dangerous substance to test. His job was to know where it came from and what would be its use. It could be months of undercover work.

“If I have no choice.”

“Good to know you accept, you will not regret it. We will have the best accommodations and the pay will be formidable.

“I do not doubt it.”

“You start tomorrow.”

*****

Ilsa was waiting sitting on a bench near the door, she was wearing a Machiavellian smile and she allowed herself to make a comment only when Ethan and her were outside the building.

“Are you in one piece? Did he try to feel your parts?” Suddenly she seemed in a better mood, even appeared to have forgotten past events. (No, women never forget, they only compartment).

“Did you hear everything?” Ethan answered not amused with the comment.

“Everything. Benji and Luther are arriving first flight tomorrow.”

“Good. You know what bothers me the most about this situation?”

“That you will have to spend your day poking animals with needles?”

“That I will have to comb my hair like this every day.”

******


	5. Broken

Benji stormed into the safe house, he left the black cargo bags lying in the hallway and went straight to Ilsa's room.

“Dear friend! 10 months of not playing ping pong with you is enough to drive me crazy.”

Ilsa was finishing closing her suitcase, nevertheless she dropped what she had in her hands to correspond her friend's hug. It was such a genuine show of affection that she wanted to stay there, in his friend’s arms, for a few more seconds.

“And it looks like we won't have a match now either,” she said.

The agent darkened. “You’re good? According to all the gen going around in the agency, you did not do very well in the last mission.”

Ilsa move her head up and down in understanding.

“I've been wondering for a while how that information gets to the agency. I can tell you, not from my report...” She was beginning to understand what had been happening with the separate reports Ethan and her wrote, now she ventured to verbalise it.

Dunn knew the woman in front of him. Three years are not always enough time to develop unbreakable bonds, but apparently the extreme conditions in which these agents lived, made them cling to whomever showed a little human warmth, that is how they managed to trust their partners so much. There was no other option. 

Benji knew her and loved her. That is the reason why he noticed that things were not going well.

“You can talk to me, you know that right?”

She nodded. “You don't have to worry about me. I just need some alone time.” She took a deep breath that might have shown the opposite of what she was saying.

“Perhaps, there is no such thing as the perfect team.” Benji tempted, putting space between each word and hoping she would open up to whatever topic was bothering her.

“Nothing is perfect,” she looked down at her hands and gathered the courage to admit what was on her mind but couldn't express out loud until that moment. “I think it all went to hell.”

The agent waited for her to elaborate but the explanation was taking a long time to come.

“Everything? What’s everything? The mission? The team? Ethan? You have to give me something.”

Ilsa smiled sadly and passed her hand over her forehead.

“I don't think we can work together again. Ethan and me. Because ... it's not healthy for me.”

“Because he's never going to stop being Ethan.”

“Yes, because he will never stop being him.” She nodded, Benji knew it... everyone knew! She was the one who refused to see it from the very beginning! “I have followed him around for three years Benji, because we believe in the same things, because his intentions are always kind and because there is no man who makes me feel like he does, but...”

“You must be you again.”

“Yes..”she whispered. “Because he will leave and I will be left alone...Without having built anything for me.”

“I don't mean to say I told you so, because I didn't. Ils, look...he's my friend, and I love him. But the man has quite a tangled brain wiring. If it were for me I would have put you on the first plane to paradise island, built you a house on the beach and live there forever with ten dogs and two parrots.”

She smiled.

“But, this is Ethan,” Benji continued, “his sense of duty is stupid and heroically high...And you, Ils, the only thing you wanted since we met was to live your own life away from all this... We know you stayed for him.”

“I'll have a good few weeks to think. The agency somehow considered I needed a break so I'll take it,” Ilsa said with a lighter tone, it was so good to be understood. Her friend knew her and knew what to say.

“The agency not so much... Wait, didn't you ask for the relief yourself? Because Ethan's report indicates that you did it.

The agent's face changed completely...fire was seen to appear through her pupils. Benji caught the change immediately and knew he had been reckless. “Ilsa, you didn't know ... and I just told you ... ok .... please ... don't do anything you’ll regret...”

“When have I?” She said separating the words dangerously. Her chest rose and fell with acceleration.

“Benji!” It was heard in the threshold. Ethan showed up in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Apparently I'm not your favourite person, I don’t even get a hello!”

Benji opened his eyes and shook his head. The team leader got the message.

Luther had come up following Ethan but he smelled tension and began to take small steps back, as if fleeing before the place began to burn.

Ilsa took the handle of her suitcase and looked directly at Benji, ordering him to move aside. He obeyed.

The luggage wheels were all that was heard. Ilsa walked past Ethan without looking at him and left the room.

“What the hell happened Benji? What did you do?” Ethan asked.

“Me? Hunt you screwed up! It was you who sent her to the bench! And I just told her, because you..didn't.. tell me she.. didn't ...know! And what where you thinking.. doing that without her knowing! Ethan, run before she leaves...get her!” Dunn yelled in all Benji’s style.

The agent ran out and caught up with her in the long hallway just before she opened the front door.

“Ilsa, I asked them to let you rest,” he said catching up his breath.

She looked down and didn't move for several seconds. Was she crying? Ethan asked himself when he saw her hands turning into fists. He considered taking one between his own hands but his instincts warned him it was a very bad idea. She rolled her eyes back to him, no, she wasn't crying. There was only an expression of sharp pain drowned in anger.

“And you didn't ask me?” She finally said, cold and serious. “Who the fuck are you? And where is my partner? Did you go behind my back and report to them that I couldn't handle it?”

“No! I asked them to give you some time off! Ilsa, you almost broke your shoulder last time!” He said as he tried to convince himself that was the real reason.

“No, Ethan. You know very well why you did it... You want to stop giving explanations about your love affairs.” Ilsa hated herself for bringing up the subject, as if jealousy was eating her. It was, but she shouldn’t show it so bluntly. “I'm an obstacle and that's why you are sending me away.”

No replied arrived, he just stared at her. Ilsa exhaled. Of course, he is not going to defend himself or deny it, he could be known for making questionable decisions but not for being dishonest. 

She still had things to say.

“Do you know what they must be saying at the agency about me after my team leader asked for my relief? You don’t know...nor you considered it, because that is what you do, you jump without thinking about the consequences...Make your life a wreck, but don't fucking mess with my job!”

Now she did feel so out of control that she freaked out slightly, enough to know she had to go before committing a crime. She opened the door to flee.

“Ilsa...” Ethan took his partner's arm to prevent her from leaving...not yet...not like this. She always calmed down at the slightest touch...

“Let go of me, Ethan.”

“No, we'll talk before you go.”

“Let go of my arm,” she ordered. Last time they touched they ended up making love on the kitchen table, the worst mistake of all. Now, he should have listened to her immediately. 

Noticing her order fell on deaf ears, she took his index and middle fingers and pulled them away. Ethan didn’t yield. So she bent them in an unnatural way in such a forceful manner that Ethan had to take her wrist with the other hand to make her loosen her grip. She did it when she couldn't bear the pain in her wrist and right after a slight crack was heard in one of his phalanges.

Ethan was enraged.

He slammed the door shut with the hand that didn't have a dangling finger. His flushed face made Ilsa uneasy, she put one foot in front of the other to block any attack that she was almost certain would not come but her body instinctively prepared to receive. "Heavens, I think I broke his finger.”

“Do you know why I asked the agency to remove you from the mission?” He was yelling at her 5 cm from her nose.

She knew better not to answer.

“Because I promised something!”

“Yes, you promised me that nothing would change!” Ilsa said.

Ethan shook his head, spun around and hit the nearest wall.

Ilsa stopped breathing, what was happening?

“No Ilsa. I promised that I would not touch another woman other than her.”

So, she was right. He did it because of that woman. Ilsa touched her forehead with a trembling hand.

“I can't ask her to trust me.” He was rumbling.

His breathing became laboured, he was struggling against something. 

“How the hell am I going to ask her to trust me if I can't trust myself to stay away from you!”

He approached again and took her arms with both hands. He stared at her.

“You understand?” He said almost shaking her.

She wanted to say no. But just let him take everything out.

“I can't...if you're close. Every moment with you is a battle...I need you...to go.”

Everything became clearer, she had understood. He was fighting against himself, he had given his word before thinking that it would mean sacrificing the most stable relationship he had in his life. Ethan had chosen.

Ilsa's right wrist wasn't working, so she took the suitcase with her left and headed for the door. 

She opened it.

Like lightning, he rushed forward, she whirled only to find his partner's mouth buried in hers.

His hips violently pushed her toward the door, closing it again. The kiss deepened. Either of us had to stop this. They couldn't breathe, it didn't matter, they took each other's air. They were panting… her hands went up to Ethan's chest and pushed him as an attempt to break contact, but he took them and held them firmly against the wood on both sides.

The reproaches of the day before echoed in his head so vividly. Why did you touch me? Ilsa said in his head. Ethan slowly released her hands and she pushed him away.

Now Ilsa was crying. But she shook her head slightly and wiped away the tears. She wanted to hide the sadness, the disappointment. To hide something from him? Impossible.

Ethan's face screamed regret, he shouldn't be doing this to the most important woman in his life. Although Ilsa loved him, he was sending her away. And to make it worse, he was demonstrating he loved her too. It would’ve been better if she left thinking Ethan no longer felt anything. But to pretend something in front of her? Impossible.

The promise he made was triggered by duty: since that night with Alanna in Ghent everything had changed.

Ilsa insisted on looking inside her partner for an explanation but he didn’t even have it himself. He was not going to tell her that he was sorry, and even less ask her to stay. 

So she just turned around and without any resistance from Ethan, left.

*******


	6. Gone

One ran faster than the other, and both Benji and Luther stopped in a place where they could not be seen.

Not that they wanted to hear them fight, they only wanted to be around in case their intervention was necessary. Or so they told themselves to stop feeling like dirty sniffers.

When they heard doors and walls being hit, they got worried and were about to make an appearance so that the discussion between Ilsa and Ethan wouldn’t get to a greater extent, but then came the gasps and both, Benji and Luther knew they should go back inside and pretend to be unpacking.

****

Gloomy days arrived, several weeks since the agents arrived in the South American country, many days of knowing nothing about Ilsa: all calls ended lost, and not one returned. Ethan paced from one side to the other at dawn, almost lifeless. When an acceptable hour came each day, he would put on his biologist's uniform and leave the safe house without saying goodbye.

“You should talk to him,” Luther said as he monitored the cameras at nearby airports, looking for the British agent, it would give him a lot of comfort just knowing she was okay.

“Why me?” Benji replied.

“Because you like talking, you chatter and chatter,” Luther replied.

Benji didn't get offended, because it was true.

“I would but I don't understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” Luther asked.

“I have Ilsa's version, because she’s my friend. I mean, Ethan is also my friend but girls tend to talk more and Ethan has never been known for sharing what lies in that little heart of his... My question is why would Ethan send her to rest? If she was clearly the more lucid of the two, did you see Hunt's face? He is exhausted. Also, weren't they supposed to be the best team and also meant for each other? Han Solo and Chewbaca meets Harry and Sally? Excuse me, but Ethan ended up with a broken finger after their little goodbye.

“You didn’t pay attention at all,” Luther said. “She said he was sending her away because he does not want to explain his love affairs to her.”

“She didn’t mention that to me,” the English agent said. “I knew they couldn't have it all, sex and job efficiency.”

“Man, it wasn’t only sex between them. I've seen Ethan in love and not in love, so I know the difference.” Luther shook his head. He did not want to stick his nose, he already tried to do it once: if they had listened to him, none of this would be happening. He told Ilsa to leave while she could because Ethan did not suit her; but no one wants to take old Luther's advice seriously. Fall in love then and have a have hard time! And so they did.

A green button lit up on the panel.

Ethan's voice made them halt on what they were doing. They manage to clear their throats declaring themselves guilty of gossiping.

“Luther, do you hear me?” The senior agent spoke on the speakers.

“Strong and clear, my friend.”

“Where do rabbits have their liver? I have to remove one.”

“Let me do the search.” Benji opened his laptop.

“Did the results come in? Mr. Whiskers is asking for them insistently.” Ethan asked.

“Not yet… wait…here they are,” Luther opened the file he just received. “I’ll send them to you right away.”

“What do they say?”

“Ohh, fuck ...”

“What do they say Luther!?” Ethan urged.

“Ethan, you did follow the protocols, right? I mean the safe measures.”

“I have done everything that you’ve told me to do! What…do they say?”

“It is a mutation of the Marburg virus, according to our laboratory the mortality range of this strain is 95%.”

“And the other 5%?” Ethan asked.

“Permanent brain damage.”

Ethan instinctively put down the syringe he was fiddling with.

“Ok… ok,” He repeated, making a mental recount of all the times he could accidentally inject himself while scragging animals.

“How are the rabbits doing?” Benji was naturally concerned.

“Dead 20 of 20. They were bleeding even from their claws. A disaster.”

“Ethan, you have to get out of there, I think it's time to use your last resort. Find out where that virus came from and get out of there.” Luther advised.

*****

“Alanna Mitsopolis... He says she's his provider.” Ethan announced as he ran his fingers through his slicked hair in the hopes of removing the middle part that threatened to remain forever marked on his head. “The sample that I have been working with is the only dose he has, the shipment he expects in a few days is 10 times larger. The sample and the following delivery are both in the name of Alanna as the main supplier, but the president was able to trace its origins back to Russia.

“May I ask what you did to get that information from the President?” Benji asked.

“I had lunch with him.” 

“And then?” The English agent couldn't help but have a little fun.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“I had to show myself a little interested.”

Benji laughed. He would have liked to see that.

“Luther, can you find the White Widow? I can assure you she’s on this side of the world,” Benji said.

“I'm running the search right now… But let me suggest one thing.” He looked directly at Ethan.

The lead agent shrugged, urging him to say it.

“Ethan should pick up the phone and call her. I doubt she won't answer him,” he stared at his friend. 

Hunt received the suggestion with surprise. Then he breathed knowing that his friend owned every camera in the world, and he was always following in his footsteps, so he knows...

“I’ll call her tonight,” he said and quickly left the room.

Benji was puzzled and then gave an audible ohhhh.

“Wouldn’t you mind informing me before you drop a bomb like that?” He asked.

“I found out ten minutes ago, man.”

******

“Alanna?” Ethan asked as soon as the other end answered.

“No, who is this?” A male voice asked.

“Zola?” 

“Fucking Hunt, it is you.” Rage and alcohol in a sentence.

“Where is Alanna?”

“Not available.”

“I need to talk to her!”

“I can't ...” Zola hesitated for a second, which made Ethan think that something was wrong.

“Zola, put her on the phone!” Ethan demanded.

“Alanna is gone...they took her away.” He said as if it was something inevitable that was going to happen sooner or later. And worse, as if there was nothing to do about it.

“What?... who’s they? Where are you Zola?”

“I'm in Colombia.”

“Isn’t your job to take care of her? How long has she been gone?.”

“Four days.”

Ethan leaned against a near table and struck it with his good hand. His friends were listening to the whole thing, they knew better than to stand there and do nothing; they immediately ran to their rooms to get their things together. They were going to Colombia.

*****  
It was one thing to listen to him on the phone, it was another to see his face, the guy was a wreck. He was shaking and his hand would drop the bottle of whiskey at any moment.

The team had left Venezuela, there was nothing else to do there. A short trip of 1 hour and 20 minutes was all it took for them to be in front of Alanna's brother.

Ethan stood still, waiting for the man to speak up. He started muttering things to his chest and tapping a foot on the ground every 20 seconds. If I provide him with a belt, the man would whip himself, Hunt thought. His patience was wearing thin, but he had the slight impression that yelling at Zola wasn't going to get him out of this trance. He, himself, was worried about Alanna too, a lot, he just knew how to hide it better.

Benji cleared his throat.

“Zola, we're waiting,” he said. “If you want our help you have to start talking to us.”

“We were waiting for instructions from our partner, it took him two days ... hell if only she had stopped being a conceited girl. This is the reason we avoid coming here whenever we can! We were waiting for the Russian at the Capitalina, the restaurant, and the idiot was nowhere to be seen.

He was reciting the details as if he were speaking to himself, not caring that his interlocutors did not know who the Russian was, although they imagined it.

“Zola, cut to the chase.”

“She went out to the terrace to smoke and I followed her but she was in such a bad mood that she sent me away. When our partner arrived we guided him to her but she had vanished. The terrace is no more than 3 meters high from the sidewalk they could have shot her and taken her body away.”

“No one has shot her, Zola,” Ethan said. No verbalising that option is not going to make it less likely, Ethan.

“How do you know? I have not heard of anyone claiming the kidnapping, much less asking for a ransom. Nothing! And it’s already been 4 days.”

“Let's say they did kill her,” Benji said and Ethan gave him a shock look. “Who do you think could have done it? What kind of business were you doing here? If you hide those details from us, it is very unlikely we can offer our help.”

“Who could’ve done it?” Zola repeated it. “The government, the Chinese. Even the Russian.”

“We better talk to the Russian. Give us their name,” Ethan said while mentally noting down the other possibilities Zola mentioned.

“I can’t do that.”

“You will!”

“I don't know Hunt. She wouldn't have liked it, she only involves agencies when strictly necessary. And this business is ...” He stared at the glass in front of him.

“Zola! There is no other way, you tell me so I can bring her back!” Ethan had already lost all the patience in his body, one more babble from of this Mitsopolis idiot and he will break his nose.

“Ok, Hunt,” he said right away. “I'm going to tell you everything, but you know better than anyone that she keeps her secrets.”

Benji glanced at Ethan, his friend was romantically involved with an unscrupulous dealer whose business could murder thousands of innocent people. He’d been fighting against people like her his entire life. Suddenly he wondered whether Ilsa knew the identity of the woman Ethan was sleeping with. If not, he wouldn't want to be the one to tell her.

****

“Let me see if I understand,” Luther began. "Alanna Mitsopolis, the White Widow, has disappeared here in Colombia and we are going to go looking for her." He waited for both agents to agree. “But you understand that we have a deadly virus in the hands of a cartoon of a president in the country next door, and we don’t know yet what he plans to do with it.

Ethan was leaning on the wall closest to the exit, his arms tightly bound across his chest while Benji had sat down at the table and was stirring his black coffee.

“The president has a tiny sample of a deadly virus. His provider is a Russian laboratory, currently not in the system, but the main contact is Alanna Mitsopolis.” Ethan said.

“She is just a broker in this case,” Benji added.

“Exactly. We must get to the source.”

“We should be more concerned with who’s gonna get it and their intentions,” Luther said, clearly against deviating from the mission and going in search for the Widow, who could be partying in some Colombian beach. 

“The White Widow came to negotiate an arms shipment with some guy named Francisco Martin. The biggest deal in recent times, according to Zola. The appointment is in two days, the meeting is still on and they would lose a lot of money if they don’t show up,” Benji said.

“One particular thing: as part of the shipment there’s a box that is not inventoried and that neither Alanna nor Zola know the contents of, only the value. It is worth 60% of the total. My bet is that these are larger samples of the virus but we can only find out once Martin has it in his possession,” Ethan said. “Most likely, our President is going to be the main buyer of this mystery box that Martin is going to acquire. That’s how we would attack the origin.”

“And we could find out where the Widow is, somewhere inside this mess I think,” Benji said, avoiding calling her by her first name, he was already taking sides and he was definitely Team Ilsa.

“However, there is a Russian contact: Anatoliy Kozlov, he is the most prominent arms dealer in Eastern Europe and the one who offered the business to Alanna but he swears that he does not know whose box it is, the product has passed from hand to hand too many times precisely to avoid tracking. This Russian is too anxious to find Alanna, the business depends on her.” Ethan reported. I'm also anxious to find her, he should have added but it wasn't necessary, his friends had noticed, his eyes were shining in anticipation and he seemed to be fighting back the impulse of storming out and seek for her in the streets. 

“There is something I don’t get,” Luther said. “Why don’t we take the box from the Wonder Brother before he takes it to Martin.”

“‘Cause he doesn’t have it.”

“So we take it from this Kozlov.”

“He doesn’t have it either”

“How do they plan to sell it then?” Luther asked with his arms in the air.

“They say they were going to handle the negotiation and not the delivery.” Ethan answered wearing a puzzled face himself.

“Ok, so we find Alanna and have her get to the appointment with Martin. We come in with her and take the box out once it is delivered by whomever is in charge of doing so.” 

“Exactly, we have two days.”

But what they failed to anticipate was that Alanna had disappeared into thin air. She was not found in any camera record, the streets had the ancient devices on poles but none seemed to be working. Ethan was beginning to show signs of worried stress, which did not go unnoticed by his friends. Was Alanna dead? He didn't even want to think about it, it wasn't a possibility. Who would want her gone? There were the Chinese, the other bidders. Zola spoke about how Francisco Martin liked to negotiated with two bidders in the same room to make sure prices were the lowest and, let’s be honest, to enjoy the carnage.

That same afternoon Hunt appeared in the hotel room rented by the Chinese dealers. In a perfect Mandarin, he asked them where Ms. Mitsopolis was being held. But the Chinese did nothing but genuinely shrug their shoulders in bewilderment. They didn’t have her.

Five days now, since she was gone. The powerlessness was digging deep into the spirit of the lead agent, the calls he received from an intoxicated Zola were not helping at all.

That same afternoon, Luther appeared in Ethan’s room, followed by Benji. “You gotta see this.”  
They popped their heads into the computer screen and saw how a surveillance camera from the 70’s at the Bogota airport captured the features and build of Alanna, embarking on a flight to Madrid.

If they trusted those images, Alanna was leaving the country.

Ethan grunted and backed away from the device.

She had always been a self centered woman, he knew that. But not to the point of leaving her brother in that state and .. him. Sure, she was not convinced of this deal with the Russian, Ethan had noticed it that night in Ghent, but she certainly knew he was looking for her. He will deal with her later, knowing she was safe was enough for now.

“The meeting is tomorrow at 8:00 am,” Benji brought himself to say it because it seemed no one would. “If we don't get Alanna inside that place we won't be able to track that box before it reaches its destination.”

“I know,” Ethan said looking at the ground. He knew what had to be done, he just hated that option and didn't want to be the one to say it.

“The problem...” Luther said slowly, “... I have not been able to track HER down.”

Everyone knew who “her” was.

“She’s not far away,” Ethan finally said. “I've been following Ilsa since she left.”

“Tell me where and I'll call her right away,” Benji said.

Ethan absentmindedly brushed his still-healing finger and nodded.


	7. Details

“It took you some time, huh,” Ilsa said as she played with a lock of hair. She had taken the phone the waiter offered without expecting to hear a familiar voice.

“We weren't really looking for you,” Benji lied.

“Bollocks,” She said animated, these beach days had done her some good.

Benji paused before giving her the delicate message.

“We need you Ils.”

She noticed the plural of the sentence.

“Who ... need me?”

“Me, my sanity and the humanity. It is extremely important...we wouldn’t bother you if it weren’t.

Deep down, she knew the call would eventually come, which is why she decided to take a plane to a destination that was no more than two hours away: Cartagena was beautiful. So it wasn't Benji's power of persuasion, but her sense of duty that made her decide.

“Ok,” she finally said after a ten seconds cliffhanger to make him suffer a bit.

“Okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You have to come today”

“Today? Where are you?” she said putting her drink on the table.

“It is really urgent Ils, Bogota.”

Ilsa would’ve hoped for some more time, at least so that the bruises on her wrist could disappear entirely, she didn't want to explain it to everyone and even less to face the person who had caused them. And he didn't want to see what she'd done to his finger, either.

Benji bit his lower lip, unable to hide the anticipation.

“Ok, I’ll be there tonight.”

Benji jumped out of his seat.

“Great,” he hid the outburst.

The connection died without him being able to say goodbye.

“She will come,” Ethan stated. He had been next to his friend listening. “Benji, could you...?”

“Yes, I will give her all the details, don't worry about it.

Ethan nodded not relieved at all.

******

“Benji dear, tell me why you made me come all the way here.” Ilsa had many ideas running through her head, but she wasn't excited about any of them. In fact, she wanted the briefing to end soon so she would return to the room assigned to her. In there, she would be sure not to bump into people she did not want to see.

“You were less than 700 km from here, a 45 min flight Ils.”

“Are you kidding? It was a whole different planet ... or so it seemed.” She didn’t want to belittle the accommodations but couldn’t help it once she took a look at the gray walls and the vibrating air conditioner that was making guttural sounds.

“It's good to have you here,” Benji started with honest words. “Things have not been going as usual, you know...”

Seriousness crossed her face and mixed with the weariness she already wore. Benji didn't want to bring any sensitive topics to the table, not yet. “Nice tan though!” He exclaimed and got the reaction he wanted as Ilsa smiled mischievously.

“You can’t imagine how beautiful the beaches in Cartagena are. And people, they’re happy! Its gotta be a Colombian thing: they can’t stop dancing and singing, it took me a while to get used to that and then I just got drowned into it. Those weeks were good to untangle the cobwebs in my head.”

Benji smiled as he listened to her, this is how he loved to see Ilsa. They have had moments in which no one thought about work and only take pleasure of the little joy crumbs that life offered.

“… Anyway Benji, let’s get to it. Tell me what I’m good for.”

The agent sighed an "Ok". Where to start?

“Ethan...” He said. Good start Benji, seriously.

“What’s the matter with him?”

“The woman he is seeing is Alanna Mitsopolis.”

Ilsa looked away. Then forced herself to face reality even if it hurt, even if she felt that worse than losing her man was knowing that Alanna Mitsopolis was the one taking him away from her.

“You’re good?” Benji had to ask, since it took her several seconds to react.

“Yes ... Good for him. She is a good match,” she finally said, exuding sarcasm.

“You do not believe that.”

“No. But it doesn’t matter what I believe,” she waved her hand pointing to the mission file so Benji could stop expecting some emotional breakdown from her.

“Ok Ils. You are here because we need you to have a business meeting with Francisco Martin. A smuggler and alleged narco-terrorist leader of the Barranquilla cartel. He is hoping to buy a large shipment of firearms from Eastern Europe and you are going to provide it to him. Martin is bringing two bidders together in the negotiation so there will be an Asian competitor. They will be offering the same, so you must use your power of persuasion to make him choose your products.

“And where are those products?”

“We don't have them.”

“And what am I supposed to deliver?”

“The delivery is made by other people.”

“Who?”

“We...don’t know... yet,” Benji said as he looked at his friend. Don't say no, Ilsa, please.

“What if the delivery boy doesn’t arrive?”

“Well… Ilsa, we will have to trust he does.”

“Benji, tell me something that can spawn some confidence in my being please.

“You won't be alone, Ethan will be coming in as the other bidder, after a meeting he had with them, the Chinese have decided to back off.”

“OK, understood.” The fact she and Ethan were in an awkward position did not, in any way, diminished the professional confidence she had in him.

“So the goal is to make this Martin to like me and buy my stuff.”

“Martin won't like you. He hates women.”

“It’s not true.”

“It is.”

“You know, sometimes I have a hard time distinguishing if you're telling the truth or joking Bensh.”

The agent raised an eyebrow and continued.

“Anyway, here is the detail of what you offer.” He handed her four sheets of paper filled with tiny letters.

“And this highlighted item?”

“Let me get to that. It is a box whose contents are known only to Martin and the original supplier hidden in some frozen forest in Russia and completely impossible to trace. It is the most expensive part of the shipment and we are sure those are biological weapons. Marburg virus.”

“You're not kidding.”

“I couldn't be more serious.”

“So...Ethan and I have to get that box out of there as soon as it arrives. If it arrives.”  
In theory we've had worse cases, Ilsa thought. In practice, the last mission is always the most difficult of all.

“Yes. And thet box is only opened with the fingerprint of the negotiator you are impersonating.”

“Oh ... I'm impersonating someone! good to know Benji... and you know I'm not going to be able to open that box, right?”

“Let’s hope you get that box out before they ask you to open it”

This was getting out of hand.

“It's a suicide mission, you understand that, right?”

Benji shrugged his shoulders with regret. And the worst part remained to be said.

“Mmm.. Ilsa ... You will go as Alanna Mitsopolis.”

The agent's back stiffened. And she waited patiently for Benji to laugh and say this time he was joking.

He didn’t.

“Am I being punished?”

“Not that I know Ils... It was a rhetorical question, right?”

She looked at him as if all the confidence she had in him went out the door in that moment.

“I didn't tell you before because I knew you wouldn't come and we need you Ils. Come on.”


	8. Should I let you go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorty.

The bed was too big for her and the mattress seemed to want to swallow her, so she decided to go out for air, water, or whatever might help her sleep.

“Are you ok?” It was the first sentence that Ilsa addressed to her partner. 

Ethan and Ilsa nearly collided as they both headed to the small kitchen at midnight. 

He didn’t answer, he just let her in first and then followed. They didn't plan it but didn't avoid it either, both knew there were things to be said and it had to be done before embarking on the next job.

Ethan silently took two muffins and spread some jelly on top. Then he opened the cabinet and took out two cups, which he filled with hot water, tea, and put them on the table. Ilsa, who was waiting for the answer to her question, immediately accepted the symbolic invitation and sat down.

“If I'm OK?” Ethan kept his brow furrowed.

“Ethan, I'm sorry about your finger.”

“It's healed already.”

“I lost control...”

“Ilsa, I’m the one who has to apologise. I shouldn't have done what I did...That confused us both.”

“It confused us? Ethan I think it made everything clear...”

Usually it was Ethan who encouraged physical contact between the two. Taps on the shoulder, a safe hug that alleviated physical or emotional pain. Now it was Ilsa's turn: she leaned forward and took his hand.

“You deserve to be happy Hunt, it has been a long time you’ve spent alone. You tried to have someone by your side and it did not work but it doesn’t mean that, at some point in the future, you couldn’t try it again,” she stopped talking for a few seconds to gain some courage. “Enough of that civic duty that leaves deeper and deeper scars in you and I'm not talking about the physical ones.”

Those words seemed to go somewhere, was he getting it right? Was she going to propose something to him?

Ilsa continued.

“I've seen your eyes shined when you were talking to her the other night...to Alanna.” Ilsa smiled slightly and took a deep breath. “I’m asking you with all my heart, as a friend, please Ethan...make it work. Be happy. Go to the beach, read a book, wake up one day after 9 in the morning. Get drunk in a bar. Dance.”

No. This was not quite he was expecting. It sounded like something different, confusion materialised on his face.

“Are you surprised? Don't be, I already understood what my path is. After tomorrow I will ask the agency for my dismissal.”

“Ilsa...”

“Don’t Ilsa me...” she interrupted him kindly. “I've already decided it and it's for the best.”

“You can't, this is your life.”

“No Ethan… It's not my life, it's yours. And don't get me wrong, This last three years have been good, I’ve learned so much from you... if I stayed in the force is because I made your ideals mine. And I followed you cause I wanted to be with close... Now is time to think about me.

“You are making hasty decisions, Ilsa,” he pulled away from her touch and let his back hit the chair.

“I've been thinking about it for longer than you think, only now I feel brave enough.”

He looked at her and couldn’t stop thinking how much he cared about that woman. His eyes were about to watered, he was entering a dangerous place. 

“I don’t want you to go,” he managed to say.

“I know I’ve taken good care of you these years,” Ilsa gave him the sweetest smile he had ever seen. “But you have to relegate that duty to someone else now.”

Quickly she turned to the right. Her fingers wiped away two tears that fell without her authorisation.

Ethan stood up and she did the same, she didn't want him to see her cry. It was a good thing that he wrapped his arms around her right in that moment.

“Can I do something to make you stay?”

Yes, she would’ve liked to say. If Ethan said a few magic words she would stay, but she was so sure Ethan wasn’t going to get them out. He had given his word to another, he had chosen.

Despite being far from teenage years, she felt like one, wondering why the boy didn't want her. It’s there something wrong with me? She had directly asked him twice to leave together and he didn't consider it and now that she’s leaving, he is not going to follow her.

She shook those thoughts out and luckily maturity broke in: He did not choose her because men usually go for the easiest thing. And she’s not that. 

Ilsa just hoped he was going to try harder.

The question was hanging in the air. Can I do something to make you stay?

“If you keep hugging me like this...” She answered, trying to lighten the burden of the moment.

“Should I let you go?” Ethan whispered into her hair.

“A couple more seconds,” she replied.

*****


	9. Meet Martin

The earpieces were really getting better with every mission, they were no bigger than a mole and magically stuck to the inside of the ear. What didn’t seem to get ahead was the technology to insert the locator. The prick of the needle in the most sensitive part of the neck was something Ilsa wished would cease to exist.

“Now, this locator also transmits vital signs, such as pulse, temperature, oxygen level. The next generation will broadcast thoughts of the individual in real time,” Benji waited for someone to laugh. Nobody did.

Ilsa looked at him with a raised eyebrow, she cared little about the development in locators, this would be the last time she allowed one to be inserted in her. The pistol slid the tiny device between her muscles and got embedded.

“The final touch,” Benji announced as he took the jelly-like object in his hands. “Ready?”

She looked at him, yeah ready to commit murder.

Benji put the fake face on her and it slid, fitting in perfectly. He stepped back to get a good look at his work, no matter how many times someone on the team put on a strange face, it was always a show.

“Do you want to see yourself in the mirror? It will help you get into character.” The agent smiled sideways, he was enjoying it a lot.

“I'll do it when I'm ready. Now get out of here I'm going to change my clothes.”

Her friend left and she ran to the mirror. It might seem incredible but in all these years of being part of the IMF team she had never had to wear a mask, what a dark first time. She was looking at the woman who aroused the most criminal impulses in her, those perfect features, the conceited nose, the mature but haughty eyes ... Or was the look hers? Anyways…she fixed her silver hair and left the bathroom.

Ethan was in front of her.

She knew it was him from the way he stood, because the face belonged to an Asian guy.

“Not a word, Hunt.”

She wasn't sure what expression the alien face on her had, but Ilsa's was ashamed, with her cheeks burning under that mask.

Ethan had to blink a few times to embrace the image. He thought it would be easy to assimilate the circumstances of this mission but he did not count on this. Thank goodness he managed to repress a strong desire to walk towards this woman and squeeze her in his arms, what Ethan couldn’t control was asking himself a question: who exactly do you want to hug right now? Alanna or Ilsa?

“I just want to give you some final instructions before leaving,” he managed to say clearing his throat.

She nodded. The last instructions on our last mission together.

*****

Francisco Martin was not in the room, neither was Ethan. They had arrived at the dealer's house five minutes ago, the front door to begin with, was an intimidating 3 meters high iron entrance and it opened without any noise.

“Ms. Mitsopolis, please come in,” an old man had said warmly.

Zola took the first step inside. Followed by Ilsa. A man and a woman were waiting, they asked them to leave their weapons on the trays to the right. After doing so, they register them, Ilsa raised her hands in the air and the woman gently ran her hands down the agent's torso and legs. Zola was also searched and they did find a pair of knives. Ilsa rolled her eyes up, this was supposed to be a relationship based on trust, she wanted to yell at him.

They climbed a massive marble staircase and came to a room whose doors were opened and from outside only walls were visible, all covered with books.

Ilsa and Zola took a seat in two armchairs from the 19th century, they learned that because the man told them as if it were a museum visit.

“Please wait here, Mr. Martin will be here any minute.”

Zola looked at her in bewilderment and kept his mouth open while looking at her sister's features in a different body. She raised her eyebrows at him and whispered “At least try to hide it”, the idiot could ruin everything if he didn't stop looking at her as if she were ET. 

“La viuda negra en mi sala! Tu fama te precede Alanna!” (The White Widow in my living room! Your fame precedes you Alanna!) A voice was heard, a little before they could see the mouth where it came from.

Both guests turned their heads to see a tall, tanned man with a four-day beard, black eyes, and bushy eyebrows.

“Puedo decir lo mismo de ti, Martin,” Ilsa said in almost perfect Spanish.

The man smiled.

“We will have some company... as you must know, I find it entertaining to have two bidders fighting in my living room,” With a gesture he ordered three men to join in. “They are the Park brothers.”

Figurative alarms went off in the agent's head and she waited for Luther or Benji’s voice to inform her of the situation: None of those men was Ethan. And Francisco Martin himself, although he looked alike according to the photos she studied, could well be another person trying to look like him.

“Ethan is not here,” the agent whispered almost without lip movement.

She waited but got no response from any of his team.

The Parks had guns hanging from their waists, Martin and his assistant too, and these were only the visible ones.

Why isn't Ethan reporting on his status? Where is he? She quickly made a mental scan and realised she stopped listening to the team the moment she entered that room. How didn’t you notice it before?

As if coming from Mars, Luther's distant, intermittent voice was heard inside her ear.

“Ilsa! ... he’s not there!” Yes I know! She thought. “... is not Martin ... Ethan ... other wing...”

The devices were not failing, this place was blocking communications.

“Mitsopolis, should we begin?” Apparently it was the second time she was addressed because everyone was looking at her with expectation.

“130 million Martin. Nothing less. The shipment is ready to be delivered as soon as you give the authorisation. I understand our Park friends have a two week delivery window. Time is money, dear. So I hope only your consent to discharge the products.” She was acting as planned at least until the facade couldn’t be sustained. Ilsa leaned forward to get a glass of water that had been placed in front of her.

“We are really going to have fun Alanna.” The way Martin put phonetic quotation marks on her name made the agent's skin crawl. This didn't seem to be going well...

“How is that?” She replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Once I get the shipment, naturally.”

“And… The Parks are not going to try to convince you?” Ilsa looked at the three men.

“These three morons? They couldn’t convince their mother,” Martin answered.

None of the three men moved nor blinked.

Zola immediately stood up and placed himself in front of her, like a shield. Ilsa asked herself later whether he did that because, for a split second, he forgot she wasn’t Alanna or maybe he did have a bit of a hero inside. Either way she thanked him... The three men corresponded this sudden move and drew their weapons at him. Zola’s chest got hit by at least 10 rounds of bullets.

Ilsa jumped off the couch and took cover behind the 19th century relic. A few projectiles blew up the nappa padding and wood chips flew into the air, just before a guttural scream ordered them to stop.

It was Martin who was now muttering curses to his men.

“No le disparen a ella! Idiotas! Los voy a colgar hoy, se los juro!” (Don’t shoot HER! Idiots! I’m gonna hang you today, I swear! ;)

Ilsa looked to her right and left. Then she raised her eyes and realised the window in front of her had the latch open: one push would be enough. And we are only on the second floor, she thought. Although each floor was 4 meters high.

“Can you come out sweetie? We need to talk,” Martin said while lighting a cigarette.

“Who are you? I’m guessing not Martin,” She spoke without moving an inch.

“Well... I'm Martin… But not Francisco, I'm his younger brother, Álvaro. And you are Ilsa Faust, I am very curious to see your real face, so when you come out please, take off your mask.”

“How do you know about me?”

“Don't come to me with those questions, you know I'm not gonna answer yet” Alvaro said as he ordered one if his men to approach the agent.

The man walked slowly towards the furniture that served Ilsa as protection, she noticed he was coming due to his clumsy steps. When he was close enough she got up, threw a cushion in his face and then kicked him in the chest. Fortunately it was enough distraction: She leaped to the prominent edge of the window and opened it effortlessly as she had anticipated.

She jumped out.

Or made the attempt.

A hand caught her arm and pulled her back from the void, slamming her against the wall below the window. Her body was hanging several meters above the ground held by Alvaro who was looking down at her with a twisted smile.

In her ear she heard Ethan.

“I'm coming to you Ilsa, one minute!”

Alvaro was holding something in his free hand. With his mouth he removed the cap, showing a very long syringe which he buried in the agent's arm.

Benji and Luther poked their heads out of the van parked hidden in front of the mansion only to see Ilsa's body hanging from the window, writhing violently in the hopes of being released to the ground. After a few seconds they watched helplessly as two guys pulled up a motionless bundle until it was put back into the building.

“Ethan, ilsa is unconscious...she’s two corridors to the right! Martin is taking her!” Benji yelled.

The agent was striding and moving as fast as he could.

“Where to?”

“To the left now!

“There is nothing left, just a wall! ... Wait.” And he kicked it, the wall shattered and he passed across.

He couldn't find his partner. 

A hideously familiar hiss made him look up the ceiling.

The first explosion occurred about 20 meters from his position, the second came seconds later on the other wing. Benji yelled to Ethan something about the house being bombed and ordered him to get his ass out of there immediately. The third explosion hit the next room.

The shock wave threw him against the nearest window and he fell hopelessly outside.

Although fighting unconsciousness due to the fall, he managed to see that the house no longer existed. The roof and the majestic gargoyles were crushed on the grass in front of him.

“Ilsa...”

Blackness filled his eyes.

******


	10. No time

“Ilsa...”

He said as he woke up. Luther's face welcomed him to awareness and the image of the apocalypse from a few minutes ago was replaced by the grey interior of the van. He fought to sit up but two strong hands rested on his shoulders to prevent it. 

“Geez man! Lay down for a while at least until you stop shaking.”

“Ilsa...”

“Yes, Ethan... she's alive. Her locator places her inside the house. Vital signs…. Weak… She does not answer tough.”

“We have to get her,” and he tried to get up again. Luther backed off because every time Ethan wanted to do something it was hard to stop him.

“Ethan… we can't,” Benji's voice cracked, he had to clear his throat.

“What...”

“There is no way. Everything is in ruins, rescue team is arriving in 2 minutes.”

“We have to do something!” Despair showed up in the agent's voice.

“Not if you don't have a power shovel,” Benji said with a low voice.

“Shit! And Martin?”

He was not inside the house, at least not Francisco. The satellite images we got from the moment Ilsa came out the window confirm the man holding her is Alvaro Martin. The younger brother.

“They were waiting for us...They knew we were coming. How?” Ethan looked for answers in the eyes of his fellow agents.

“We must find Anatoliy Kozlov. I'm sure he knows,” Luther sentenced.

*****

A hand was still holding her arm but it did not belong to anyone, laying next to her was the metal bar that had severed the member. Its blue fingers were clasping her skin so she tore them off and laboriously put both of her palms on the ground to try to get in an upright position.

She coughed to remove the kilos of dust that were blocking her throat, it helped a little but she still had some difficulty in taking oxygen; it took her seconds to realise that her lack of air wasn’t caused by a physical failure: the environment was saturated by suspended particles, she was literally inhaling concrete powder.

Once seated, she was able to get a better view of her surroundings. Rubble every where, all covered by partial darkness.

Her feet moved when she commanded them, a good sign. No stabbing pain, another good sign. She put one knee on the ground, then the other and got up. The first thing she saw was the body of one of Martin’s guys. There was another body three steps farther.

She looked for a stream of air, found none. The light filtered between the twisted iron, the holes were the size of the little Christmas lights.

“Ilsa… are you there?” She heard in her ear.

“Benji…” she whispered.

In the van, Ethan immediately got off from the stretcher and ran to the computer to talk to her.

“Ilsa! The Rescue team is about to get to you! Just hang in there.”

“I don't see Martin around here. Only two of his men. Wait ... I hear something. Someone is coming.”

The three men breathed in relief. The rescue team was nearby.

One shot.

Three shots.

“This isn’t the rescue team! They are shooting!” She yelled.

Ethan looked at his friends in rage. He stormed out of the van and for the first time, took a look out: it showed a desolate landscape, worthy of Berlin at the end of the Second World War.

Ilsa hid behind a half-fallen wall. Flashlights and shouts were sneaking through the bullet holes to her left.

The shots started to fill the agents' ears. Luther unconsciously checked the vital signs from the locator just after the first barrage of projectiles: Ilsa's heart was pounding frantically.

It was enough for Benji to leave the van as well, she patted the stunned Ethan on the shoulder and they both ran towards the ruined building, determined to get the most important woman in their lives out of that place.

The footsteps and screams came closer, along with the sound of a machine smashing metal and concrete.  
Nowhere to go... She had positioned herself at the other end, away from those who wanted to reach her. Did they want her? she doubted it. So who ... or what? Or perhaps Alvaro Martin was also trapped somewhere. But in that case they wouldn't be trying to kill whatever was moving.

“Here! The scream of one of the men was almost in her ear in a language known to her. Indistinct voices entered through the hole they had just opened.

“Ilsa! We are almost there! Just cover yourself!” Ethan yelled in her ear.

“No time Ethan. They are almost here, about ten men. Russian.”

The agent began to stump her feet against the surface under her, it no longer mattered to be quiet. She stood up and jumped on top a couple of times, the bullets had weakened the already precarious structures and she hoped the floor would give way under her feet.

The first Russian who managed to pass through the iron drew his gun on her and got prepared to pull the trigger. She raised her hands and quickly stumped her foot once more; the ground shrieked, trembled and collapsed beneath her, taking down almost everything that was there including Ilsa.

The dust that had risen blinded the Russians and the density of the air was unbearable so they to run the opposite way, towards the exit. However, the man that first saw Ilsa stayed and walked to the recently formed hole. He saw nothing but concrete blocking their way again. No trace of the woman, who most certain had died crushed. They would have to drill again until they got what they were looking for.

******


	11. Unlikely

Ethan and Benji also heard the rumbling coming from the heart of the ruined building. They stop in their tracks and hid between some still standing walls. Men were starting to emerge from an improvised tunnel, ejected by imaginary monsters made of dust.

“Ethan, buddy...” They heard Luther's muffled voice in their ears.

Benji's eyes widened like two ping pong balls. Ethan frowned and put his hand on his forehead.

“No… Luther,” He said anticipating what his friend was going to tell him.

“Get out of there.”

“We can get her!” Hunt yelled.

The silence in the receiver told them that it was no longer imperative to find her, they needed to get out of there alive. The Russians outnumbered them.

“She’s gone... her locator is working but ... it doesn't detect a pulse.”

“Luther, check that again...”

“Ethan...”

The agent knelt down and took his head. "There’s something we can do, there’s ALWAYS something,” he began to repeat over and over again.

Benji moved away a bit, he wanted to give Ethan space to assimilate what was happening ... And he wanted to cope alone. From the corner of his eye he watched as his friend stood up and looked up at the sky. Kicked the ground. Murmured and cursed. Benji had never, ever seen him in such a state, it was better to keep an eye on him and assimilate his own pain later.

The english agent turned around because he no longer heard him. Ethan left the place where they were hiding, walked quickly towards the black SUV’s.

A dozen Russians were leaning against the vehicles trying to take some air after almost drowning inside.

“What are you doing… Ethan!” Benji followed him reluctantly.

“Who’s in charge!” “ He heard him say when he was three meters away from them.

At least ten guns were pointed at the agent's chest, a tall one with a shaved head emerged from the pack.

“Who are you?” He said in English with pronounced r's.

“I want you to tell Kozlov that I am going to find him and kill him. You understand me?”

The Russian laughed out loud and spat on the ground near Hunt's shoe, the agent’s hands immediately clenched.

Benji rushed to touch his friend's arm and tugged it lightly to let him know he was there and that they should go. To his relief, Ethan turned and they both walked away, gasping in rage. By the time they got to the van they were both unable to stand upright properly. Benji got in quietly and shook his head at the sight of Luther. Ethan refused to get in.

“I found Kozlov,” Luther announced to Benji.

“I don't know if it's a good idea to tell him now.”

******

Skillful hands pulled back the hair that covered the corpse's face. Surprised hit and she backed away scared.

This was a place where it was highly unlikely to find someone else and even less after all the events that had just occurred. She heard the clatter of bombs colliding with the building overhead, then the deafening collapse of structures that made it seem like the earth would engulf everything, including her. But the walls around remained standing.

Now the ceiling had just collapsed in the hallway and brought this unconscious woman right to the entrance of her cell. Was she dead? The door that kept her locked didn't exist now, so she lunged towards the body to see who it was.

And this came across. Her body started to shake with fear and couldn't stop, she was breathing deeply and the only thing she could take in was dust particles. Who is she?! Think think! Her head began to connect the dots quickly, after all it wasn’t a waste she had a higher IQ than the average population.

As soon as she resolved the matter, she ran to the body and looked for a small irregularity in the skin. The mask came off easily when she pulled it off the woman's head. She examined the limbs, torso, and head. The body didn’t appear to have any fatal injuries but was lacking a pulse. 

She never thought to use this she learned a while ago, it hadn't been necessary until now: She lifted the woman’s chin, tucked her fingers between the lips and open the mouth, covered the nose and brought her own mouth close to hers. She blew three times and then got up to press her chest as many times as necessary. Nothing. She did it again now pushing harder, pressing deep the diaphragm, hoping she was getting it right.

A puff of air entered Ilsa's mouth. She turned the british agent on her side and relaxed once Ilsa coughed out all the dirt she had swallowed.

Alanna walked several feet away as a precaution and waited for Ilsa to open her eyes.  
Long minutes passed by, Alanna just sat there waiting, in the middle of chaos, in her favourite white suit ruined by the days and the mistreatment. Not to mention her hair, it was surely tangled lacking shine or shape. She had time to examine Ilsa, she couldn't help it. After all, a few minutes ago the agent had her own face on, which was the sight that scared her at first. Ilsa was also wearing a white dress but loose on the waist, something that she herself would wear. Similar builds, the girl had muscles to envy (did you see that back?) ... you have to admit that. But I’m definitely taller, she thought and won the mental battle.

Finally Ilsa was sitting up. Once upright, she looked over her shoulder to verify that the person sitting there was the one she saw at first and it hadn’t been a joke played by her recently brought to life mind. She muttered something.

“What did you say?” Alanna asked not minding to pretend cordiality.

“I said thank you,” Ilsa replied, but the voice that left her throat was Alanna's. Almost as if it disgusted her, her hand removed the voice modifier patch from her own throat and tossed it away.

"I would have done it for anyone," she replied.

“Hello! Do you hear me?” Ilsa ignored the comment and spoke to the air, her fingertips searching for the device inside her ear. “It's not there,” she told herself. Then she faced Alanna.

“Weren't you supposed to be somewhere in Europe? They saw you getting on a plane.”

“It was clearly not me, I’ve been here for days! Thanks for prioritising my search by the way,” she said sarcastically.

“Oh princess, no one was looking for you.”

“Why are you here then?”

“You tell me, I was pretending to be you.”

Ilsa stared at her and then lost her eyes to the void as she noticed something. It was obvious why they knew the whole act this morning was fake. They had the true White Widow in their underground dungeons. And why did they continue with all the pantomime? Well, to find out who was tailing the purchase. And we fell like flies in honey.

“Hello!? Alanna said, waiting for Ilsa to return from wherever she was. “How do we get out of here?”

“Did you tell them we were coming?” Ilsa asked, ignoring the question.

“How would I know YOU were coming?”

“Did they ask you about us? About Ethan?”

Alanna took some time to answer. She expected her brother, if anyone, to come and get her out. Ethan was not involved at all, but they did ask and were very persuasive in getting an answer.

“Yes,”She whispered as she buried her gaze in the floor. “Your names, what each one of you were in charge of.”

“And did you tell them!?”

“I did! They were beating me! I am neither a trained agent nor a martyr, Faust.”

The agent for the first time noticed the state of the woman in front of her. Bruises on the legs, arms and a few on the cheekbones, those seemed to be healing.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Ilsa backed away a little in the attack, Alanna have had a bad time already, they both have... “Did you get to see Martin at some point?”

“Yes, the first day. I mean Francisco, then the idiot of Alvaro came every other day. That box he wants has a biological weapon, exorbitant amounts of it.

Looks like he won't have it anyways, the British agent thought. Things did not turn out as the Martins wanted apparently, their house is in ruins, the negotiator trapped three floors underground and the shipment… who knows.

“Yes, we know. The men who wanted to kill me... (or ended up killing me) were Russian. Most likely Kozlov’s men. Do you trust him?”

“I trust no one. But I have worked with him for years and he has never done anything wrong… however… we are going through difficult times.”

Ilsa exhaled and gave her a taunting smiled. Even traffickers have low seasons. She thought.

“Are you mocking my business? Do you find it little… honourable?”

“You are saying it, not me. You put a price on people, you supply criminals with deadly viruses,” the agent was making it clear that she didn’t forget not long ago Alanna had offered to pay for her head. “But my opinion does not matter, you do what you have to do.”

“At least I decide who to work for, who to mess with, and who to leave alone. They tell you what to do. Until recently, Faust you were considered a scum for having worked for Lane. And even then you did what he told you to.”

Ilsa gave her and intense look. “Fair enough.”

“What...you’re not going to defend yourself?”

“Nah, but Ethan would have something to say about that. Although you must have already talked, you know, how you feel about the work he does, it’s not different than mine.

“We don’t talk about work.”

“Really? He is 90% his job.”

“That 10% is VERY interesting,” she replied leaving a raised eyebrow.

The agent did not answer, she didn't have the strength to keep fighting. Long minutes went by without either of them speaking and it seemed both were comfortable by ignoring one another. 

But something was bothering Ilsa and she had to get it out of her system. So she cleared out her throat and spoke.

“Do you love him?” Ilsa asked. She knew this absurd situation was the only one she would have... to know.

“Do YOU love him?” Alanna replied.

It took her several seconds but Ilsa finally answered with a sad tone that she never wanted to show.

“It doesn't matter, he chose another one. Answer my question.”

“I've never been in love so honestly, I don't know...” She lied.

He chose another, Alanna repeated in her head. That means the two of them discussed it at some point. They surely did while being between sheets one night after a hard day of work.

I don’t know? Ilsa repeated in her head. The man has gotten rid of her for a woman who doesn't know whether she wants him?

Both women had fire in their eyes.

A string of blows from above conveniently interrupted their gazes.

“Is it the rescue team?” Alanna asked.

“Most likely not, we must find a way out before they get down. They are looking for you, I can't find another explanation, after all you’re the only one who can open the box.”

“That would mean they have the box and not the Martins and that is not what Alvaro anticipated. He told me during his visits, they were not considering business with Kozlov and were skipping to the manufacturers.”

“That’s why they kept you here until it was time to open it, it couldn’t be reprogrammed for someone else to do it, I guess.”

Alanna nodded.

“Why would they continue with the bogus transaction then?” Ilsa asked the question but it was almost rhetorical. She knew why.

“Francisco and Alvaro knew about my relationship with the agencies and how close we work whenever it’s convenient for both sides. That’s why they ask for me, in the first place, the “keep your enemies closer” thing. They were certain someone would show up eventually.”

“They knew about you and Ethan.”

“Somehow they did.”

Ilsa stirred uncomfortable, this mission wasn’t thought right. No one to blame but her really, she was the one who said yes to this insane task. She had survived bombs and ceilings falling on her head, she fell two floors down, died and then was brought to life. This was a first time of a lot of things for her, unpleasant first times.

She took notice of her own physical state, she had remained sitting on the floor since woking up, her legs did not respond at first, but little by little she began to regain sensitivity to her relief.  
She decided to stand up to see if everything else in her body was working. As soon as she put herself in a vertical position, a pain in her back radiated everywhere, her thighs, her chest, her neck and reached her head like a cannon ball. If it weren’t for Alanna, who stood up in sync with her, moved towards quickly and took her arm, she would have fallen.

The agent took three deep breaths before letting Alanna know that she was fine and was able to stand on her own. Once again she thanked her under her breath.

Once she was sure that the pain was not going to return, she grabbed the mask that was lying on the floor, they shouldn’t leave any trace behind. She walked slowly and Alanna followed her. They moved as far as the irons allowed, then dropped to their knees and crawled through a gap in a collapsed wall. None of them had any idea where they were going, but moving around was better than staying to wait for the Russians, Colombians or whoever was trying to break through. 

Ethan must have learned she was alive by now. He would come for her, for both of them.

*****


	12. Back to life

The beep beep beep on the computer made the agents rush to the monitor. Ethan heard it from outside the van; from the stone where he had sat disheartened and had not moved for half an hour.

“She has a pulse again,” Luther yelled.

“We must go find her” Ethan ordered sticking his head inside the vehicle.

“The Russians must be already there” Benji said.

“We have to find another entrance, get to her there before they do.” 

They stormed out.

Minutes went by, both agents were following Luther’s instructions, moving like mice between holes, hoping every wall they passed by had already finished falling down so no structure would end up on their heads. 

“She is moving.” They heard on their ears. “Towards you, but she seems to be stages below.”

That was a good sign: she had the strength to move. But... how did she... come back to life?... One thing Ethan had learned was to never question miracles.

Two things he had in mind. 1. To get his partner out of there, take her in his arms and never let go again. Thinking her dead served to realise it: he needed her near to consider life bearable, that no woman could make up for her absence. Although a deep bond was going to bind him to Alanna forever, the situation could be overcome. Ilsa had to be in his life and if that meant to leave the force once and for all then he would do it in a heartbeat. It had been decided.

The second thing was to find Kozlov and give him the treatment the traitors deserve. One thing was for sure, that bombardment came from him, clearly the Colombians did not have in mind the sudden destruction of their property. But why would Kozlov want his buyer and his partner to disappear under concrete?

Not money. The virus. He was never meant to have the shipment, the virus was already on Martin's hands! And the bombardment was the distraction to get hold of it. Yes that's a motive.

If he was right then he had to get Ilsa out of there immediately. If she was the one standing between the virus and Kozlov then she would be dead soon...this time for good.

*****

They both moved in the dark with extreme care. They knew that any wall could crush them at any moment or the floor could collapse if there were more cells under their feet. The two women walked faster when they felt a draft coming from their right.

Crossing a dilapidated passageway and after moving a large block of concrete, they came in a half-lit room with a huge hole four meters up their heads. Ilsa knew that aperture was the perfect place to wait for any help.

“Look, Faust,” Alanna pointed at one dark corner.

On the floor covered by a makeshift cloth were huge boxes stacked, shape and material that looked very familiar to both of them. They came closer and didn't think twice about opening them.

Weapons, lots of them.

Ilsa started looking around almost frenetically. The freaking box had to be there. 

She found it under rubble, it was sealed and had a panel, made perfectly to read one fingerprint. Alanna stepped forward and put her index finger in the right place.

The box opened and pressurised icy air escaped. Hundreds of pipettes waited correctly aligned. Ilsa closed it again.

“So they weren’t looking for me after all.” Alanna said.

Ilsa nodded trying to think. Who bombed the house? Was it Kozlov? Most certainly. The Russians were so ready with the right tools to drill concrete just minutes after the explosion. They knew the shipment was there and wanted to get hold of it. How did the goods get to Martin's house? What role does Alanna play?

She was squatting and almost stroking the box, searching answers in her head. The important thing now was to take that box out of there immediately.

An explosion brought them to their feet. Whoever it was, they were making their way to them. The rescue team? The Russians led by Kozlov coming to get the box? Colombians and Martin looking for the same? Ethan?

Almost simultaneously, Alanna doubled over with her hands on her waist and groaned. Ilsa ran to her and touched her shoulder gently.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” One more moan came out of Alanna’s mouth.

Ilsa knelt so she could see her face, just as Alanna's white skirt turned red between the legs.

“Sit down,” Ilsa ordered.

She walked her to one of the boxes, pulled one of the fabrics that were covering them and put it on top to make it more comfortable to sit on.

“Is this the first time you bleed?”

Alanna shook her head up and down.

“How far along are you?”

“I don’t know what are you talking about.”

They were not in a position to get elusive. She raised her hand and her index finger pocked slightly one of Alanna's breasts.

The blonde groaned. “What are you doing?

“Sensitive breasts. Tell me how many weeks pregnant you are.” Ilsa ordered impatiently.

“Twelve.”

“Shit. Does Ethan know?”

“How do you know it's his?

“I'd kill you if it isn’t his... Mitsopolis, don't you understand? Ethan loves you... Don't waste it, he's a good man, the best.”

No one knows how difficult it was for her to say these words. And despite the pain, she had to make sure her friend, her best friend, was in good hands.

“I told him the last time I saw him. Back at Ghent,” Alanna stated.

Ilsa remembered clearly when Ethan asked her to leave. She had a vivid memory of that last goodbye kiss.... He already knew he was going to have a child, she now understood why he sent her away.

Alanna's face distorted with pain again.

“Don’t move,” Ilsa commanded as she looked at the hole in the ceiling. Where are you Ethan?  
Shouts were heard very near, coming from the same direction the women had come...The Russians had managed to get through.

They had very few minutes, Ilsa scanned the place and found what she was looking for: She took Alanna's arm, asking her to stand up slowly. It was a depression in a wall where only one person could fit; Ilsa encouraged her to carefully bent and sit inside.

“What are you doing?” Alanna whispered.

“I’m hiding you.”

“What about you?”

“I'll hide the box.”

Ilsa pulled out a small pistol from the folds of her dress and placed it on her own neck. The needle did its job and pulled out the locator, reminding her how much she hated that. The little gadget resembled a fragile light bulb between her fingers, without any pity she placed it in Alanna's hand.

“I can defend myself,” the broker said.

“Don't be reckless. Take care of your baby.”

She sealed the hideout with small concrete blocks and other things she found. Then she ran to the oh-so-important box and pushed it with great effort to a ramp caused by the collapse, it slid almost a floor down.   
She only had enough time to put the mask on. Five men crossed the threshold right in that moment.

“Don't shoot,” the man in the middle commanded the others. “Alanna dear, it is a relief to know you are alive, I see you found the weapons.”

The man had a black beard and the same arrogant attitude as Alvaro Martin. This had to be Francisco Martin. Ilsa thought about not speaking at all, the throat device was lost. Would he recognize this was not the voice of the real Alanna? If he didn't realise she was a head shorter than Alanna, he was unlikely to notice the voice, yet she still had to be careful.

The men approached and searched frantically around the boxes, only to shake their heads from side to side. Francisco approached Ilsa.

“My box, Mitsopolis.”

Ilsa stood still.

A man approached her, the blow with the outside of his hand made her turn violently towards the hole where Alanna was hiding. From in there the blonde had a limited view, she clasped her hands in anger, should she come out?

Martin approached and took Ilsa by both shoulders but did it somehow... gently. His eyes did not reflect what she thought they would: hatred, helplessness, greed. She saw intelligence, interest, firmness, instead. She was puzzled.

“My box, woman!” He rushed.

“The Russians... they took it,” she whispered.

“I just killed the Russians in the way in.”

“It took you a long time to get in, Martin. They came first.”

The drug dealer frowned. Did he notice her voice? He addressed one of his men.

“Cut the right index finger, it is the only thing we will need once we find the box.”

The guy stepped forward and drew his knife.

“Wait, I heard where they were taking it,” Ilsa had to do what was necessary to get them out of there as soon as possible.

“Where?” He asked incredulously.

“I'll tell you if you get me out of here. I've been underground for a long time.”

“You don’t get to set the terms.”

“They also need my finger to open the box, they will come back for me...and if you don't want a pitched battle right here, we need to go.”

******


	13. Faces

Ethan poked his head inside the gaping hole and could see something moving below.

“Ilsa?”

“Ethan?” The woman replied.

The agent adjusted the harness that had been anchored to a secure jamb and climbed down.

He found her sitting with her back against one of the walls.

“Are you ok?” He said as he squatted down and brushed a bit of silver hair from Alanna's face. “You're bleeding,” catching the stained dress. He suddenly became aware of the woman's legs and arms, he knew that skin and it wasn't Ilsa's. He lifted the woman's face from her chin to see her eyes.

“They took her,” Alanna said.

“Al, it is you! How...?”

“It doesn't matter now, Ethan, they took Ilsa away,” she showed him the locator. “They'll kill her when they find out she’s not me,” she couldn't help but grimace.

She told her about the box and pointed to where it was. Benji who was already down, went straight to look for it. He found it and breathed in relief, at least that had gone well.

“Don't move,” Ethan said nervously when he realized Alanna's situation. “Who took her?”

“Francisco Martin.”

*******

Ilsa's breathing, heavy and rhythmic, formed a depression that rose and fell in the hood she had on her head. The journey took longer than she thought, it could have been easily five hours she sat there in the back of a vehicle with two people flanking her on either side. No one spoke, they didn’t tied her but occasionally she felt the cold metal of a cannon caressing her thigh. 

Even when the vehicle stopped and everyone got out, she didn’t move an inch. It wasn’t something she wanted to admit, but she did not feel anything but indifference about this situation. Did she feel dispassionate enough to allow herself to be eliminated? The thought scared her.  
They opened the door and someone took her by the hand, pulling her down. She let herself be guided, the setting sun warmed her back immediately, she felt grass on the soles of her bare feet. The air conditioner hit her face as she got inside a building. After two minutes of walking through corridors, they stopped and someone pushed her right shoulder down, she understood that she was being ordered to sit.

The hood was removed and Francisco Martin was the first thing she saw. Now Ilsa had more time to examine him, he was reading some papers behind a huge wooden desk. Glasses fall down to the middle of his nose, black hair with greys peeking out slightly on either side of his head; a strong, square chin that he touched once he deigned to notice her presence.

Ilsa showed a slight smile.

“What's that smile for?” Martin asked, taking off his glasses.

“You arrived much earlier... They gave me a pretty long tour. It's a shame I couldn't enjoy it.”

Martin raised an eyebrow and smiled too. He grabbed a bottle of water from the bar to his right, poured a glass, Ilsa couldn’t help staring at it, she swallowed longingly. When was the last time she tasted water? She jumped from a building, bombs and debris fell on her, died, came back to life, and not a single drink. She wouldn't mind being tortured by water boarding right now.

Martin came over and gave her the glass, the water disappeared in two seconds. The man understood immediately, brought the entire bottle and offered it to her.

“Thank you,”

“Ilsa Faust,” said Martin while she finished drinking.”I'm very curious to see your real face.” 

She just stared at him.

“May l?”

Francisco didn’t wait for her authorisation: the man crouched in front of her, his chest touching her knees. Ilsa instinctively turned her face to the left. She felt Martin's fingers touch her neck, his breath brushing against her skin.

“I found it,” he said triumphantly as he gently pulled up a tiny fold. He stood up to get a better look at her. "Bella," he said.

What's up Ilsa? Why don't you beat the hell out of him? Nobody seems to be pointing a gun at you.

“Can we end this, Martin?”

Francisco shifted the weight of his body and crossed his arms. “End what?”

“The deal with your box.”

“Ha ... the one you managed to hide.”

“You want it back… you're going to demand to trade it for an agent and all the cliché. But they will not accept it, so you can finish this now.”

“Why would they accept it anyway? He asked with a smirk in his face. “This particular agent is one foot outside the force, and her partner nor the agency needs her. Am I right?”

How does he know that? It was a second of perplexity but Martin could tell.

“I knew of a disguised agent who didn’t hesitate to jump out of a window. I don't even know why but I was more interested in going down to meet you than to retrieve that infamous box; after all I can get that merchandise at any time. Alvaro is placing a new order as we speak and we will not make the same mistakes.

Almost as invoked, the voice of the youngest Martin was heard.

“Where is that English bitch?” He yelled as he appeared at the threshold. 

Alvaro moved violently towards Ilsa. “You and your Russian friends blew up my house, if I hadn't been playing dress-up with you, this wouldn't have happened to me!” And he showed her an arm that did not end in a hand, but in bandage that covered a stump. Ilsa remembered the dead fingers she had to peel off her own arm.

Before the physical contact, she was hit first by a stream of drunken air that came with the man. She then received the blow to the cheek that made her fall from the chair, the physical exhaustion didn’t allowed her to block it.

Ilsa got up immediately, she wasn't going to let a drunk remain unscathed after hitting her: he staggered after she connected her own fist to Alvaro's nose.

Lunging forward, Francisco caught Alvaro by the collar of his shirt. Instead of helping him get steady on his feet, the older brother shook him violently. He was, in fact, a bit shorter but Francisco's stronger built gave him an advantage.

“I said nobody touches her!” He yelled in his face. “Get out of here before I wipe you out... And take an ice bath.” Alvaro ran off after giving him a look of contempt.

Ilsa couldn't help the dizziness that ensued after being nearly knocked out. Francisco reached out to take her by the waist.

“We are going to let you rest,” He whispered to her, Ilsa didn't have the strength to refuse.

******


	14. Move on

Emotional instability was not something inherent to Ethan's personality, however he spent the week following Ilsa's disappearance locked in his safe house room, dealing alone with himself and frequent meltdowns. No one was supposed to see that. At his age, grief is to be handled differently, yet he could not avoid it.

She had the best people out there looking for her. Ilsa never left Colombia, why was it so difficult to find her? There were two options: Martin killed her or she didn't want to be found. Ethan wasn't sure which one hurt more.

He had her back for a moment and then lost her again, he regretted fondly. He knew the responsibility for whatever happened to his partner, was all his. Eventually he would have to come out of this trance, his friends knew this and were watching him closely. On day ten, he ventured outside those four walls. Bathed, with combed hair and even prone to smile, one of the things he understood is that Ilsa would have forced him out of misery the next day so he decided to move on...for her.

Once both men, Benji and Luther saw him stepping out, they came towards him. Benji hugged him, he, himself, needed that too. Luther slapped him on the back to let him know he was there for him. Hours later Ethan found himself buried inside work again. That is how it was going to be from that moment on.

****

Five months later

“Have you heard from her?” Alanna asked as she ran a hand over her bulging belly. Ethan was seeing her son's mother again after 4 months of being away on a mission.

He shook his head, after several months he just felt a little willing to talk about it.

“Not a word. She never left Colombia by land or air. Francisco Martin didn’t admit a kidnapping,  
and he was never interested in the virus again, we expected he would contact us but he didn’t. 

“But did they really look for her? I mean Luther, Benji, the agency...” Alanna asked genuinely interested.

The agent looked at her dead serious "Sure we did!” And we won’t cease until we know what happened, he thought.

“How are you?” He asked her, trying to switch to more jovial topics for the moment.

“Me? About to explode,” Alanna looked more beautiful than ever. He noticed that she smiled more often and although they still didn’t talked about each other's jobs, he learned by her own lips that she had stopped working with some dealers and was dedicated to trade with less controversial goods. The death of her brother, the son she was having and the whole extreme experience in general, had penetrated deep in her. He had made it a habit to call her every day to ask for his baby, excitement and fear fulfilled his mind, in fact, he has never being this scared, not even when he had to perform those “hanging from planes or helicopters” sessions. 

Alanna was the one who suggested the terms of their relationship. She would not force him to anything, especially after having agreed not to continue as a couple. Ethan insisted that his son would be the centre of his universe and that he would not lack the love of a father, and so far, even in the belly, he was fulfilling it.

“A package arrived yesterday afternoon, it was addressed to you,” the blonde told him.

“It’s that so? Here?” Ethan got worried.

She lifted her shoulders.

“You didn't open it, did you?” He asked.

“No, but I did shake it a bit to hear if it ticked.”

“Seriously Alanna, no one would associate this place with me, except the guys. But they would have warned me before sending it.”

Alanna grabbed the phone on her bed table.

“Linda bring the package, please.”

A girl knocked on the bedroom door, placed a light blue box topped by a bright blue ribbon, in Ethan's arms.

She placed it on the bed and began to open it.

“The packaging is beautiful,” Alanna said, a microsecond before Ethan ripped it completely. Men.

He reached inside the box and pulled out a white knitted sweater and a blue and white beanie. Both in miniature size. The blonde's eyes shone when she saw them, despite looking forward to the little one, these garments became the only thing with which they could dress him in this house, if he were born at that time. Shopping will be done later.

“Does it have any note? Who sent it?” Alanna asked, taking both items in her hands and noting the softness of the fabric.

“Nothing,” Ethan said after checking the entire box.

But he didn't need a note to know who the gift came from.

He had known it since he opened the package and the scent hit his nose. He had the scent of her everywhere, the clothes, the inside, even the little embroidered handkerchief with two letters that he found at the bottom of the box.

“NH?” Alanna said, when he saw the letters on the garment.

Ethan smiled.

“Nathan Hunt, it was my father's name. And apparently my son's.”

“Nathan ... I like it,” she replied.

Alanna understood who the gift came from. And he knew immediately that Ilsa had every right to name her son, after all, the child would live thanks to her.

*****


	15. Chemical Decisions

Five months before.

Ilsa found herself staring at the man beside her.

The first meeting, on the day before, ended with a proposal that left the agent puzzled.

“I want you to work with me,” Francisco began.

She laughed derisively, then regained seriousness when she saw Martin totally expressionless.

“I have seen what you can do, with your training, your knowledge and experience, imagine what we would achieve.”

“My experience in what?”

“In how the other side is handled.”

“I've fought people like you for a long time, what makes you think I’m going to collaborate with you?”

“I’m curious, how are people like me.” Francisco showed interest in how Ilsa would define him.

“Sociopaths, unscrupulous, not a hint of regret in their actions.”

“I do regret many things, my dear Ilsa, and I have never considered myself a sociopath, I care about the people, with whom I grew up, those who need help...and... I care about you. I came down for you, remember?”

Ilsa narrowed her eyes on disbelief.

“Tomorrow,” Francisco continued. “We will walk around town... I don't like to brag about anything but I just want you to see with your own eyes, what money from my business can do for people.”

“And how do you explain the virus that you want to resell to that president? Do you know what he will do with it? It will proliferate in the detention camps for illegal immigrants on the border of Mexico and the USA. It will kill them all. Are you interested in why? Because that way the eyes of the world will turn to the human rights that are violated there and he will state that not only in his country people are treated like animals, their accusers become accused. Ego and stupidity.”

“This is the reason why I need you,” he replied quickly.

He needs her? Now it became a need and not a wish, tomorrow he says, they will visit the village, his intention is to keep her there. How much longer? Until she accepts his proposition? What happens if she refuses?

The village was beautiful, a little town with narrow streets with lanterns and a pastel-colored houses. It seemed to have come from some work of art. The people greeted Mr. Francisco Martin with great respect and looked with little devilish curiosity at the gringa who was walking beside him.

Why haven't I tried to leave yet? Ilsa asked herself, a lot had to do with the two men watching her at all times and even sleeping in the hall next to the room assigned to her. But there was also the fact that if she left, it would take her a long time to find her way into the city. After the walk in town Francisco took her to a mountain, the highest place in the valley, from up there only green fields were visible until the horizon.

Francisco did not do more than watch her look at the landscape that was bathed in gold, the sun was a few minutes from setting. Her hair flew through the air and the Colombian had to restrain himself from taking it between his fingers and placing it behind her ear.

Ilsa noticed his black eyes on her. There was also the feeling that Francisco wasn’t representing a risk to her life, at least not yet.  
Another reason why she hadn't run away? One that she didn't want to admit to herself? That she had nothing or no one to return to.

He had asked her to work for him. Would she consider it? No way. 

But what if it depended on her that this man stopped doing the wrong he does... would this part of the world appreciate it? He is a sociopath although he denies it, could she be his personal filter?

She shook her head to get that nonsense out of her head. She had to go back.

“I would like to leave tomorrow,” she said.

Francisco could not hide his surprise. “I thought we were reaching an agreement.”

“I cannot leave my life and stay to work for a drug lord.”

“Well then, Hunt will have to come get you, bringing, of course, my box.” He let her see a flash of anger.

“And I thought we were reaching an agreement,” she told him.

The sun was down, leaving a trace of purple on the sky. That woman looked even more beautiful in person, photographs didn’t make her justice, was the thought Francisco had in his mind. Yes, two days ago Francisco become aware the meeting with Alanna Mitsopolis was going to happen, a call with Mitsopolis team confirmed that. But he knew it was a set up cause Alanna herself was locked in a cell in his own house. The blonde broker gave away the information: something about an IMF agency he never heard about, masks and tech toys, and most important names of agents. Francisco prepared himself for a masquerade party. Made a quick research about the agents and stumbled upon Ilsa Faust. That photo he was viewing in the screen startled his senses. Was it attraction at first sight? He asked certain people about her background, quick things he could get in prior hours to the meeting. Then instructed his brother to bring her willing or unwillingly, to him. Unharmed. 

“Don't you see it? I need you to stay here,” He vocalised while approaching Ilsa. 

He was getting close...very close.

She could only exhale, her gaze shifting from Francisco's black eyes to his lips. What was wrong with her? This man effortlessly overpowered, she couldn’t gather the strength to walk away.  
Was she interested in Martin? He was without a doubt one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.  
One thing she was sure of is that her pulse had quickened and she risked making her gasping breath more noticeable. This reaction went beyond physical attractiveness, it was more chemical.

Francisco ran his light fingers down Ilsa's arm. “Do you believe in fate?” He asked.  
Ilsa shook her head and looked down at his fingers tracing an imaginary line on her skin. “I do,” he said. “And as soon as I saw you I knew it.”

She requested her brain to find a way out.

“You knew what.”

“That you would stay with me until the end of my days.”

As ridiculous as that might have sounded, Ilsa didn't consider it that way, it was as if his words were having an almost hypnotic effect on her.

She took Francisco's hand and withdrew it from her arm. This time he would not break any fingers, because Francisco took advantage of the closeness and encircled Ilsa's waist. He pulled her toward him.

There was no other option: it was her who brought her lips to his.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be the end of my story. 
> 
> But Ilsa is my favourite character and I just couldn’t. Let me know if I should’ve stopped writing or you like my new ending.   
> Hang in there...2 more chapters.


	16. Two years

Two years later.

Ilsa heard men yelling just outside the house and went out to look, whenever her men saw her arrive they would always calm down and leave any childish brawl for the stables.

Today was different, because they weren't fighting each other, but instead yelling and pointing their guns at someone else.

She smiled once she saw the back of the one person causing the fuss and had to restrain herself from running to him.

“Es un amigo, bajen sus armas,” she said in perfect Spanish, asking them to lower their guns.

Some persisted and maintained their guns up.

“La señora ha dicho que bajen sus armas!” shouted the one who seemed to be the leader.

They all lost interest and after following the order, they withdrew to their posts.

Ethan turned around.

He had forgotten the power of his partner to charm whoever saw her. She was wearing a leather hat, a white shirt, boots over her jeans. And the most beautiful smile he knew.

She tilted her head to the right, that was a sign for him to follow her.

Only when they were inside the stalls did Ethan dare to speak.

“La Señora!” He said imitating the Colombian accent.

“Yeah, that's my nickname,” Ilsa said as she took off her hat.

They registered each other for a few seconds.

Then, as if they were magnets, they both found themselves in a big hug. She breathed from his neck and his hair, like before. The heat they emanated was soothing for their souls, they had missed each other so much.

Their cheeks touched sweetly, they could avoid what followed but they didn't want to. Soon their lips were meeting smoothly. Both seemed to be recognising each other again, then parted with wide smiles and no guilt at all, they were just two friends who loved each other.

“It took me a while to find this place. I was looking for all the properties under the name of Francisco Martin, it occurred to me much later to look for them under your name.”

“I manage his business.”

“Are they all under your name?”

“Only the legal ones,” Ilsa leaned against a wooden fence, and as soon as she did, a horse's head came out to greet her. She stroked it.

Rays of afternoon sun came through some skylights illuminating their faces.

“Does he treat you well?” Ethan asked leaning against the same wall.

“I think the question is whether I treat him well.”

The sad smile that adorned Ethan's face soon disappeared. He had a hard time asking the next question, and she realised it.

“Do you love him?” He finally whispered.

“I’ve grown fond of him,” Despite being honest, she did not want to delve into explanations, out of respect for Francisco and because she couldn’t lie to Ethan, seeing him now in front of her was bringing emotions she couldn’t control, so decided to change the subject. “How is Nathan?”

“He is growing very fast. He walks now, he runs I mean.”

“Do you see him?”

“Whenever I'm not, you know, doing this.”

Ilsa noticed something in this last answer. But she chose to ignore it for now.

“Are you and his mom still together?”

“Not romantically, but we get along really well.”

“Good. I mean...It's good for Nathan.” Getting to the point was always a strength for her. She didn’t want to sound abrupt but had no choice. “Can I ask you something Ethan?” she said facing him.

He nodded.

“Why are you really here?”

“Ilsa,” he started. 

She looked deep into his eyes. He saw regret and sadness, in no way was there joy, which would be normal after seeing his partner for the first time after a two years of believing her lost. She got it immediately: Ethan was working.

“No, Ethan...” she said walking away and grabbing her hat, ready to run.

Ethan rushed behind and stopped her.

“Is Martin in the house?” He asked as he took her by both arms.

“Let go of me.”

“Answer me!” He shook her.

“Yes...”

Ilsa struggled to get free but Ethan was stronger.

“Who?” she asked him.

“The FBI, the DEA, the Colombian government.”

“Francisco is not going with any of them, Ethan. He will fight, they're going to kill him ... I have to help him, let me go.” Her voice broke, she was trembling and rage was threatening to show up.

“Ilsa... I can’t...just stay with me ok?”

Gunshots were heard coming from the house, like fireworks that did not stop.

Profuse tears welled up in her eyes.

Ethan just kept his arms around her, she was still struggling to get free. She cared about Martin more than he imagined. If he let her go she would fight and they would kill her too. He could not afford losing her again. 

Suddenly she kicked him in a soft spot with her knee, Ethan bent forward but quickly recovered, holding her wrist before she flew. She kicked him again in the chest to set herself free. Ethan wished it didn’t get to this point, when both were to fight for real, no training session, no playing around. For real.  
He rushed forward and pushed her against a wall, she connected her fist with his cheek. A second blow was going directly to the same spot which Ethan stopped easily. He wasn’t going to hit her, he just needed to immobilise her. Watch out for her legs, hold on, and block the way out, Ethan. 

Ilsa tried to kick him, she tried to run passed him, he blocked every blow. Except the last one that went directly to his nose. He saw stars, and also Ilsa, running towards the door. The gunshots didn’t cease outside, it was not safe for either of them. 

Ethan ran and got a hold of her, there was no other way, he had to: He pushed her with all his strength against a couple of barrels and she fell spectacularly hitting her head against a wooden gate.  
Even then she tried to get up, Ethan kneeled beside her and pressed her shoulders to the ground.

“I'm sorry...I'm so sorry Ilsa,” He whispered.

Seconds after, she stopped fighting. Screams and shots were replaced by the barking of dogs and car engines running. Ethan moved himself to the side, releasing her.

Ilsa stood up and trudged to a wall; then slipped until she sat with her back against it. 

“I knew this day would come, so stupid, I wasn’t prepared,” she whispered.

A flapping of wood against wood made them look up, a small golden dog walked shyly at first, then ran once he spotted Ilsa, he snuggled into her lap carefully and whimpered a little. He had blood stains all over its back.

“You brought them here,” The ex-agent spoke without a stain of doubt. 

“We try to stop it,” Ethan said as he squatted in front of her. “There’s nothing that we could’ve done to stopped them from coming, the only option was to get you out. That’s why I'm here... For you...We need to go now, if they find us, you... will have to go with them.”

“This is my home, Ethan.”

“And you will be back, but now we have to leave.”

He offered his hands, she took them and allowed him to pull her up. Once she was standing he knew something was off, it wasn’t that obvious through that baggy blouse she was wearing, how didn’t he notice it before?

“You are pregnant,” Ethan said, his mind going backwards at light speed, to the fight, to her falling, to him pushing her to the ground.

He fixed his shocked gaze on Ilsa's slightly bulging belly.

“I’m ok,” she stated, guessing his thoughts. Then continued, “It was my last chance, I had to take it.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Once again he wanted to tell her that he was sorry.

“I'm not trying to justify my pregnancy to you, I'm trying to tell you that the man who was just murdered there was the father of my child. And his deepest desire was to meet his child, he wanted to see her walk, run just like you did with yours,” the agitation and the urge to cry did not let her finish.

“Ilsa...”

The stall doors were suddenly flung open, splinters flew into the air. Several boots rushed in.

Ilsa and Ethan looked at each other and silently agreed like they did so many times before, feelings were to put aside for a moment. Ilsa ran to the back of the place followed by Ethan and the dog. A padlocked door stopped them. Not for long because Ethan smashed it with a hammer conveniently placed on the ground.

They both walked out, greeted by the sinking sun and apple-green fields. Where would they run? Where could they hide? The grasses were not tall enough to cover them. They would be shot in the middle of nowhere.

Ilsa turned only to see the men approach. She unconsciously placed her hand on her belly. What would happen to her and her child?

All of a sudden, the sound of propellers broke silence, the grass began to get agitated by a levitating helicopter about 100 meters from where they were.

“Run!” Ethan yelled.

They both did, side by side. The golden dog also ran.

Two ropes fell from the aircraft and each took his own. Ilsa looked at Peach, the dog.  
“Come back, I'll come find you!” She yelled at him and then started to climb with one additional splinter lodged in her heart.

The men were right behind them, one of them grabbed Ethan's rope as the ship took off. Luckily, the man gave up and let go of to a 5 meter fall.

Ilsa noticed not a single bullet was shot at them, it was clear they had orders to catch her alive. She was the best source of information they could get, she had being at one point, on their side after all. 

Soon she was on the helicopter. Benji’s face was the first thing she saw, the insecurity in his moves was visible: he wasn’t sure what his friend's reaction would be, after all this was almost a kidnapping, not the kind of reunion he would have imagined.

Ethan still wasn't on board, an odd thing considering his expertise in this type of matter.   
Benji only cared to poked his head out to see when they heard him yelling outside.

“I need a hand to climb up!” Benji awoke from his lethargy and began to tug the rope.

This also made Ilsa approach the edge to see what was happening, Ethan never had a problem getting into moving vehicles, airships were his specialty.

He saw to his surprise that Hunt had Peach on one arm, that was the reason why he couldn’t use both hands to climb. When the dog was safely on her legs, Ilsa looked at Ethan and with a single nod, he knew she was grateful.

A few minutes went by, enough for her to regain her breath, Ilsa's voice was heard in the cabin.

“It's good to see you, Benji.”

“And you too, Ils. Congratulations,” He said pointing to her belly.

“Thank you.”

Ok, now I'll be the one who never realised it in time. Ethan thought. I even hugged her! Mental head slap.

That exchange was the last thing that was heard besides the occasional communications on the radio, which the pilot answered quickly.  
For Benji it was the most uncomfortable ride of his life. It was like having both of his parents angry on either side. Even light talk wasn’t allowed. Ilsa’s very serious features, frightened him. She had cried, she was pregnant and the father of her child had had an uncertain ending. She was angry, furious. But since she was Ilsa, it wasn't noticeable, she could hide it very well.

Benji advised her, years ago, to make a life away from Ethan, from everyone, and she did. Yet, she ended up in the same place. Only she was a fugitive now, for collaborating with organised crime.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff... it is not a fanfic without fluff.

“Thank you,” she said when they reached the door of her room, Ethan made sure that Ilsa had the indulgences of a good hotel, after 13 hours of flight and after what she had lived through.

“You do not have to thank me.”

“Of course I do. I had the chance to cool down during the trip and... I owe you my life,” tears began to fall down her cheeks. “Ughh, the hormones,” she said as she wiped them up.

Ethan reached over and put his hand on Ilsa's cheek. “You're welcome.”

“You've always had my back,” she placed her own hand on his.

“I'll always be here for you. If you want me.”

She nodded, but her mind went to a different place.

“I'll get back what belongs to my child.”

“You will, when it's safe.”

Ilsa needed to rest. To stop thinking, to forget for a moment. She knew wasn’t going to be able to do it alone. 

Ethan picked up his bag from the floor and touched her arm.

“Will you be fine?”

“Stay with me.” She tempted and prepared herself for a negative answer. 

She didn’t know he had been waiting for those words since they left Colombia. Now that he had her close he wasn’t going anywhere. Though, this time, he was going to wait for her to agree, he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again.

Ilsa’s wide eyes were waiting. He nodded and she smiled.

She put her shirt on a nearby chair and her jeans on the floor next to her boots. It mattered very little her former partner had just finished closing the door and was staring at her in amazement.

“I’m sorry I just needed to get rid of them... it’s nothing you haven't seen before...Well maybe with some additions she said as she ran her hand over her belly that barely protruded over her lace panties.”

“You look beautiful.”

“And you look very dressed.”

The cargo bag found its place next to Ilsa's boots. Ethan took two strides towards her and with all the desire accumulated for more than two years he took her in his arms and their lips joined in despair.

***

Ilsa settled on Ethan's chest and he stroked her hair until she fell asleep.

She woke up at dawn and did not know at first where she was. Immediately her body tensed up and was half way out of bed when Ethan hugged her tightly to stop her from running away, you had to admire the reflections of this woman.

“I'm sorry,” She said sadly.

“Are you ok?” He asked while lighting up a lamp.

“Dreamed something,” she said. There was no way she was telling what it was about, but it involved Francisco, smiling. He was happy in her dream, and relieved she and his child were in good hands. That put peace in her heart. “Do you believe in fate, Ethan?”

“Ok, this is the profound midnight question...Let’s see... I used to think we made our own choices and we took our own paths... But now, holding you in my arms again, after we chose to be as far away from each other. It kind of... makes me rethink it. You?

“I was gonna say no, but you got me,” She laughed, of course she did too.

They looked at each other, they still couldn't believe they were together, their skins brushing, their eyes recognising images their brains failed to forget.

“What will happen in the morning?” She asked.

“I'll bring you breakfast.”

Ilsa smiled but that wasn't what she meant.

“And when they send you on another mission?”

“I will take you with me...”

“Ethan ...”

“I didn’t pay attention to your question... I am telling you that I will take you with me to Cartagena, there is a house with an ocean view, pink with a white fence that I would like you to see.”

“I'm not joking, Hunt,” Ilsa put herself in an upright position wearing a thoughtful look.

“Neither am I, I submitted my resignation to the agency before a went to look for you in Colombia.”

She needed time to process it. It sounded surreal, impossible words coming out of the less likely mouth.

“What about your son and Alanna?”

“Nathan will come to learn Spanish during the summer...And Alanna likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Ok, true, but she has great respect for you and has asked me to thank you for what you did.”

He reached and kissed her, it felt good, to do it whenever he wanted to, no restrains.

“I... thank you for what you did,” he continued. “And I’m sorry, for everything.” 

“I never blamed you, Ethan”

“Listen to me,” Ethan felt his sweating hands were going to betray him, this he was about to do, he did it once before and remembered it to be the most nerve racking experience. Though he knew he couldn’t continue with his life if he didn’t put himself to the task. “I’ve loved you ever since you offered me to run away with you,” Ethan smiled because she did too, blushing a little. “Then, when you disappeared I continued to love the ghost of you.”

He grab her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers.

“I'll make it up to you, all this mess I caused. All this time we’ve lost... I will put a big ring on your finger so you never doubt it.”

She looked at him in surprise.

“I don't need a ring.” She stated with certain nervousness.

“I'm going to give it to you anyway... Cartagena is a very conservative city, they will prefer their new neighbours be a full-fledged stable couple, with no peculiarities or eccentricities.”

“We are everything but peculiar,” Ilsa said. “Hunt, just say you want to marry me.”

“I want to marry you.”

How mysterious are the roads we travel, although sometimes we return to what seems to be the beginning, we do so with an imminent difference. We are no longer the same, we grow, we change, we hurt and we forget, parts of us die, others are born. The important thing is to avoid longing for the way we were, but to enjoy each part of what we have become.

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I got excited writing this whole story, hope you will too reading it.   
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
